


Equal and Opposite

by thegreenfigtree



Series: Motion [3]
Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorders, F/F, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 41,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreenfigtree/pseuds/thegreenfigtree
Summary: Newton's third law states that every action will have an equal and opposite reaction.
Relationships: Maura Isles/Jane Rizzoli
Series: Motion [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557343
Comments: 89
Kudos: 228





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ***IMPORTANT***
> 
> *let me be clear before you start reading that this fic is HEAVY. i didn't feel that they addressed maura's trauma nearly enough in the show, so this is an exploration of her coping with the aftereffects of the kidnapping. this fic will contain discussion and depiction of sexual abuse, self harm, and disordered eating throughout, so please proceed with caution if these things are triggering for you. i will not put trigger warnings on individual chapters, so be aware that those things will come up frequently in this fic. but i promise it does get better by the end. there is a resolution here.
> 
> *yes, this is a rizzles fic and there will be a romance factor in the story. however, it is secondary to the main plot, which is maura's healing process. don't come for me saying there's not enough romance lol
> 
> *i won't be doing a song for every chapter like usual, but if you want to put on the playlist i've put together for the ~vibes~ of this fic ((what i listen to while writing it)) you can find that [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2H49HvsVMWBH2JmiJaNtDR?si=EOXXMPWfRAq53KO4EDwlvQ) ((vows literally captures the entire fic in 4 minutes and 25 seconds highly recommend))
> 
> *this fic will be updated on fridays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you read parts 1 and 2 of the series, those take place during the break in this chapter. if you didn’t, you didn’t miss any important plot, just a look at things from jane’s perspective!!

It’s cold. It’s always cold. She blinks awake, wishing not for the first time that she could gauge the time. But there is no sun. There’s no light at all aside from the single flickering bulb forever threatening to fail. Her hands hurt. Her hands always hurt. She listens for the familiar sounds of angry, heavy footsteps, but hears none. It could be the middle of the night, of course. She doesn’t know.

She doesn’t like not knowing. She’s not good at not knowing. But the past – days? weeks? who could tell? – have been filled with exactly that. Her cuffs rub at the sores on her wrists and she winces just a bit. Really, she barely feels it anymore. _Nerve damage_ , she thinks absently, mind too tired to think any more than that. She hears something outside the door. Not the same thing she always hears. Her ears perk. She doesn’t know if she should hope or not.

It sounds like gunshots, maybe. Faint, muffled through the thick steel door, but gunshots they certainly could be. She’s not sure if that’s good or bad. She’s not sure if she’s really even hearing what she thinks she’s hearing. She leans her head against the wall as a shiver runs through her. He promised to bring her a blanket. Why didn’t he bring her a blanket?

She’s maybe asleep, she’s not really sure, when she hears voices outside the door. They’re not his voice. One of them sounds like she’s heard it before.

“Maura?” the voice yells.

That’s her name. She thinks. She tries saying it out loud. “Maura.” Her voice is hoarse, throat dry, and the last syllable breaks. It feels familiar in her mouth.

“Maura!” the same person yells again. “If you can hear me, tell me where you are!”

“In here,” Maura tries to call back, but her weak voice doesn’t reach much farther than her own ears. She’s not sure why she’s calling out at all. Whoever this is will probably just hurt her, anyway. They’re probably with him.

The door bursts open with a loud, violent sound, but Maura barely notices. She looks up at a woman who looks familiar, like she’s seen her before, but she can’t quite place it. Two men stand in the doorway. The woman is tall and has wild curls flying in every direction. She’s holding a gun. Her eyes soften when she sees Maura, and she runs over to help her. “Maura,” she says, her voice breaking as she starts to cry. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I…” Maura doesn’t know how to respond. “My hands hurt.”

The woman looks down at Maura’s cuffed hands. Without hesitation, she lifts her foot and slams it into the pipe Maura’s chained to, causing it to collapse. She helps Maura up and leans in to pull her into a hug.

Maura jumps away. She draws her still cuffed hands close to her chest, trying to distance herself as much as possible. Who gave this person the right to touch her? “I want these off,” she says, gesturing to the cuffs still on her wrists.

“Um… okay.” The woman seems hurt. “They’ll probably have something in the ambulance.” She reaches out again, but seems to think better of it and pulls her hand back. “Can you walk?”

Maura nods. She follows a male police officer through the winding halls of the building, the woman and the older man behind her. She can hear them talking. She tries not to let on that she’s listening.

“She doesn’t recognize us,” the woman whispers.

“She’s just in shock.”

“What if she doesn’t come out of shock?”

“She will, Jane.”

Jane. Maura frowns. That name is pulling a reaction from her. Something deep inside her is being tugged at, but she doesn’t know why. All she knows is that she knows Jane somehow. And she doesn’t like not knowing.

* * *

Suddenly, like she’s blinked and transported, Maura’s stirring awake in a bright white hospital room. She doesn’t know how she got there. She looks around. Her eyes don’t focus on anything in particular until she sees who’s sitting in the chair beside the bed. “Jane,” she whispers. She almost smiles. Her Jane is here.

Jane’s eyes go wide. “You know who I am?”

And that’s when Maura puts the pieces together. “After a traumatic event the brain tends to repress certain memories related to the event. Sometimes it takes unrelated memories too,” she explains mechanically. Her voice sounds tired even to her own ears. Science is a reflex. It’s safe. She’ll hide in it as long as she can before someone rips her away and forces her back into the real world.

“But not anymore, right? You remember now?”

Maura nods. “I’m starting to. Being away from the scene is likely helping my brain to sort through everything.” She looks down at her wrists, expecting to see the same angry sores she’s grown used to. They’re hidden by bandages. Clean, sterile, white bandages. She doesn’t know why the sight bothers her.

Jane smiles. “I’m gonna go get the nurse. She wanted you to rest before they started looking at you.” She stands up and leaves the room, coming back just a minute later with another woman in scrubs.

“Hi, Maura,” the nurse says with a smile much too wide. “My name is Ann. I’m just going to ask you a few questions so I can get an idea of how you’re doing, okay?”

Maura nods. She doesn’t want to answer any questions. But the logical part of her brain, the part that’s a doctor, knows it’s important, so she stays quiet and tries to focus on Ann’s words. Most of the questions are yes or no, so she’s able to answer without thinking too hard.

“Looks like Dr. Connor wants to do a rape kit,” Ann says, reading from her clipboard.

“What? No,” Maura snaps. Rage rises in her. She can’t quite place why she’s so angry, but she doesn’t stop it. Anger feels good right now. Anger feels right. “No, nothing like that happened. It’s not necessary.”

Jane frowns. “Maur, are you sure? Maybe we should do one just in case.”

Maura narrows her eyes as she looks back at Jane. “ _We_ aren’t doing anything. _I’m_ saying it’s not necessary. No.” She turns back to Ann. “I know I’ll have to sign the form that says I’m refusing recommended treatment. That’s fine. Just bring it to me.”

Ann doesn’t say anything for a minute, like she’s at a loss. Finally, she nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll let Dr. Connor know.” She writes something down. “We want to keep you for a couple days to monitor your condition, but we should be able to get you home by Friday.”

Home. Friday. These words used to mean something to Maura. Now, they’re just words. Then she realizes she still has no idea what day or time it is. “What day is it today?” she asks.

“Tuesday. June 18th.”

June 18th. Maura turns to Jane, whose gaze is now focused firmly on the floor. “I was gone for three weeks?” she says. It didn’t feel like three weeks. It didn’t feel like anything. It felt like one, horrible endless day. She watches Jane rub her hands together in a way that reminds Maura of a hundred other times she’s done it. Slowly, she knows, her brain will start to rebuild itself.

“It took a long time to connect the dots,” Jane says quietly. “Joe Harris worked really hard to make sure it looked like an inside job.”

Maura doesn’t react to that name at all. She’s not sure if that’s someone she’s supposed to know or not. “Is that who took me? Joe Harris?”

“Yeah.” Jane sighs. “I’m so sorry, Maura. Joe Harris and whoever he was working for only went after you to get to me.” She reaches out to take Maura’s hand, but Maura shifts to move it out of reach. Jane pulls her own hand back into her lap. “We’re gonna find whoever it is, okay? I promise you, we will. But whatever you can remember… it might help.”

Maura should be feeling bad for Jane right now. Jane is upset. The natural response would be sympathy. She searches inside herself for her sympathy, but finds only annoyance. _I’m the one who was kidnapped and tortured. I’m the one who barely survived. She’s the one who_ _should be feeling bad for me_. “I’ll let you know if I do,” she says coolly. She doesn’t look at Jane.

The clock on the wall tells Maura it’s just past 1:00 in the afternoon. She wonders when visiting hours will end, when she’ll be allowed to truly rest. She knows everyone else will want to see her. She can’t deny them of that. Can she?

The thought barely has time to leave her mind before Angela comes in, a flurry of energy, and runs right to the bed to lean down and capture Maura in a tight hug. Alarm bells are sounding in every part of Maura’s body. She freezes for a second, waiting for her arms to respond to her brain’s commands. Finally, her body comes back into focus and she shoves Angela off of her, breathing heavily as the weight leaves her.

Angela looks like she’s been slapped. She looks at Jane, not Maura but Jane, for an explanation.

Jane sighs. “She’s been through a lot, Ma. She needs her space.”

“Of course.” Angela sinks into the chair beside Jane with a strange look on her face. “I’m sorry, Maura.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not okay. Maura frowns. Why did she say that? She glances around, looking for something, anything to change the subject. She can’t stand looking at Angela’s kicked puppy face. “How is everyone else? Do they know everything?”

Jane nods. “Korsak wanted to come but I told him you’d probably want space. Frankie and Nina, too.” She rubs her hands together. “But I can call them back and can tell them to come, if you want?”

“No. Thank you.” Maura frowns. She doesn’t know why it’s taken so long to notice, but there’s someone missing from her revolving door of visitors. “Is my mother here? Does she know what happened?”

“Yes,” Angela jumps in. “The first day you were… I called Hope right away.”

“No!” The exclamation falls out of Maura’s mouth before she can stop it, making all three of them jump. “Not Hope. My _mother_.” She raises an eyebrow.

Angela shifts in her seat. “I didn’t have her number.”

Maura looks at Jane, eyebrow arching even higher. “You had my phone.”

Jane stares at her hands in her lap. “I… I didn’t know you’d want me to. You guys haven’t really talked in a while.” Her fingers fidget with one another as she speaks.

“I think this is a rather extenuating circumstance, don’t you?”

Jane gnaws at the inside of her cheek and keeps playing with her fingers. She doesn’t look Maura in the eye. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to call her now?”

“Yes! Tell her to get on the first plane.” Maura stops herself before she can say _she should have been here weeks ago_. Maura and her mother have had their issues, of course, but after everything, all she wants is her mom.

“Okay.” Jane stands up. “Ma, come on. Let’s let Maura rest.” She’s being surprisingly good-natured about all the barbs Maura’s been throwing, and for a second Maura wishes she wasn’t. It’s hard to justify being angry at someone who just bows their head and takes it.

Finally, the Rizzolis leave the room and Maura is in blissful, peaceful quiet. She didn’t think she’d want quiet after being deprived of company for so long, but she finds she can suddenly breathe again, the muscles in her chest slowly unknitting themselves one by one. She presses the button for the nurse, and Ann is there within a minute, clipboard in hand.

“Something wrong?” Ann asks.

Maura smiles. “Actually, I was wondering if I could put in a request to not have any visitors while I’m here.”

Ann nods and writes it down on her clipboard. “Of course. Just want some peace and quiet, huh?”

“Exactly.” Maura leans forward slightly. “With one exception. Constance Isles. She should be here by tomorrow.”

“Your mom?”

Maura nods. “Thank you, Ann.”

“No problem. Get some rest now; I’ll be back to bring you dinner, okay?”

After Ann leaves, Maura sighs and lies back in her bed. Maybe she should feel guilty. She knows everyone’s been so worried about her. They just want to see her and make sure she’s all right. But she’s finding it hard to care when she’s surrounded by soft pillows and nothing but the sounds of machines letting her know she’s alive. She falls asleep listening to her own heartbeat, finally, for the first time in weeks, in peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday everyone!! it's a good thing i'm writing several chapters ahead on this one because i'm moving this weekend AND it's christmas next week soooo no writing is gonna get done unfortunately. you'll still get your update next week though, never fear!!

Maura stirs awake the next morning, and for a moment she has no idea where she is. She looks frantically around the bright room, searching for something to ground her. Her eyes land on the heart rate monitor. It’s beeping wildly now, reflecting her anxious state. _I have a heartbeat_ , she tells herself. “Dead people don’t have heartbeats,” she adds aloud. She’s alive. It’s a new day and she’s alive.

Slowly, the events of the previous day come back to her. It’s hard to believe everything happened in the span of just a few hours. In her memory, it feels like weeks. She glances down at her wrists. The bandages have been soaked through, stained red. There’s almost certainly bacteria beginning to collect in the wounds. She presses the button to call the nurse, and Ann comes in. Has she gone home at all since yesterday? “My bandages need to be changed,” Maura says.

Ann laughs softly and shakes her head. “I love treating doctors,” she says, as though she has some inside joke with herself. She grabs all her supplies from the cupboard in the corner and busies herself with snipping off the old bandages. As she gets the new ones ready, Maura finds herself mesmerized by the wounds.

Jagged, messy, red and black, and much deeper than she’d initially thought. They must have her on quite a bit of medication for these not to hurt. Or the nerves are more damaged than she thought, but then they would have done surgery. She’s almost disappointed when Ann covers them with fresh gauze. She was comforted by looking at them. It reminded her of when she was younger.

“Have you heard anything from my mother?” Maura asks as Ann starts to put her supplies away.

“Not yet. But we’ll send her up as soon as she gets here, okay?” Ann points to the landline phone beside Maura’s bed. “And that phone can dial out, if you want to call and check in with her. Just dial 9 first.”

Maura frowns. “I don’t have my cell phone.” Why hadn’t she noticed before? Had she just gotten so used to not having it?

Ann nods. “I think the police are still using it to figure out who your captor’s accomplice is.” She shrugs. “They couldn’t tell me much else, though.”

“Of course.”

Ann finishes cleaning up and leaves her alone again. Maura settles back into the bed. She absently rubs at the bandages on her wrists as she casts a sidelong glance at the phone. She considers calling Constance, but she knows she probably wouldn’t reach her anyway. She considers turning on the TV, but there’s nothing she wants to watch.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she blinks open her eyes she’s looking right at her mother’s face. She jumps in surprise. “Mom,” she whispers. The term feels foreign in her mouth, but somehow right.

Constance smiles, but her eyes give away her sorrow. “Darling.” She reaches out a hand.

Maura shifts herself so she’s just out of reach. “I’d rather not be touched,” she murmurs.

“Of course.” Constance sighs. She stares at her hands, folded neatly in her lap, impeccably manicured as always. “What happened, Maura? What did he do?”

“Someone’s after Jane.” Maura folds her hands beneath the blanket so her mother can’t see them fidgeting. “They wanted to hurt her by hurting me.”

Constance’s face changes from worry to something much darker. Unmistakable anger. “She’s put you in danger again.”

“Mom, please.” Maura shakes her head. “I’m not interested in rehashing this again. You know Jane’s place in my life.” Memories flash through her mind as the words leave her mouth. Her and Jane on the couch, hands folded within one another so tightly they’ve become one. The kiss – was there a kiss? Why can’t she remember? All the time she spent waiting, dreaming about their first kiss and now she can’t even remember if it happened. Is she losing her mind?

“Maura, darling,” Constance says, interrupting Maura’s train of thought. She gestures to the heart rate monitor. It’s sped up now, indicating that she’s surpassed 100bpm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It’s strange, hearing her mother apologize. Things have changed between them, but it’s still hard to believe sometimes. Especially now. “It’s okay.” She kicks herself in her mind. She’s done it again. Said it’s okay when it’s not. “Jane and the others are working very hard to find the person behind all this. We’ll be okay.” She smiles gently. “And I’m safe now,” she adds, as much for herself to hear as Constance.

Constance’s eyes are focused now on the lump that is Maura’s hands hidden under the blanket. “Darling, those bandages on your wrists. Are they…” It’s not often that Constance is at a loss for words. Still, Maura knows exactly what she’s trying to say.

“No. No, I’m done with that. You know that.” Maura rubs at one of her wrists beneath the blanket. “I was in handcuffs.”

The look that crosses Constance’s face is a strange mixture of relief and concern. She shifts in her chair. “You very nearly scared your father and I to death with that. We were always terrified you were going to slip.”

Before she can stop herself, Maura starts to laugh. She can’t stop laughing. She notices Constance’s frown and tries to get herself under control, bringing a hand to her face to cover her mouth. “Mom, I cut bodies for a living. If anyone is going to slip it won’t be me.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t the case when you were sixteen, was it?” Constance’s lips are pressed into a thin line. There’s no humor in her face.

Maura immediately sobers. She stares at her lap. “No. It wasn’t.”

There’s a long, very pregnant pause before Constance speaks again. “Do you want me to stay? I can have Gabrielle send my overnight bag.”

Maura thinks about it for a moment. As desperate as she was to see her mother, she’s still Constance. They haven’t really spoken since the car accident so long ago. They’re still exactly the way they are. “No. I would prefer to go through this on my own.”

Constance smiles and folds her hands. “I’ll let you rest, then.” She moves to stand up, but stops short. “I do have one question for you, if I may.”

“Of course.”

“That drawing I gave you, of the woman by the grave.” She takes a deep breath. “You know who that is, don’t you.” She doesn’t say it like a question. She knows.

Maura nods.

“Is she here?”

Maura shakes her head. She doesn’t know what to say, what words might comfort herself and her mother. So she doesn’t say anything at all.

“All right.” Constance stands up and goes to the door.

“Mom,” Maura calls, stopping her before she can leave. “Thank you for coming all this way.”

Constance smiles. “I always will, darling. Any time.” And then she’s gone.

Maura rubs at her left wrist with the opposite hand. Her mother’s words are bouncing around in her mind. She knows intimately that terror in Constance’s eyes from when she was a teenager. It’s the same look she had when Maura’s dress rode too high at dinner one night and Constance caught a glimpse of what was hidden beneath it.

She reaches beneath the blanket and tugs at the hem of her hospital gown to look at those scars now. They’re faded, over twenty years old, but still white and slightly raised against her skin. She runs a finger over them and lets her eyes fall shut. They still comfort her, even now.

She’s fully aware, as a doctor, that it’s unhealthy to become so fixated on them, especially so long after stopping the behavior. It’s her secret, her guilty pleasure. It’s her reminder that she’s alive. Against all probability, she’s alive, right now, today.

* * *

Wednesday blends into Thursday at some point, and sometime in the late afternoon a knock comes at the door that startles Maura out of a train of thought she can’t even remember once she’s removed from it. “Come in,” she says hesitantly. Ann doesn’t usually knock like that. She has no idea who’s behind that door.

Jane comes in. Somehow, she’s the last person Maura expected to see today. “Hey,” she sighs. Her hands are balled in tight fists at her sides. “I know you said you didn’t want visitors which… I guess I get. But this is police business.” She gestures to the empty chair beside the bed. “Can I?”

Maura nods. She’s not sure what to say. She finds she’s never sure what to say, lately.

“I brought your phone back,” Jane begins, handing it to Maura. “And I wanted to tell you we found the person behind everything. I can tell you the details if you want to know.” She looks up and her eyes are soft, tiptoeing around a question in a way Maura’s never seen in her before.

“Not right now,” Maura says quietly. She’s having enough trouble processing things as it is. She still has large portions of time missing from her memory, gaps in her story where anything could have happened. She doesn’t want to add any more pieces to the puzzle.

“Right.” Jane nods and rubs her hands together. “Well, you don’t have to worry about it anymore. She’s dead. You’re safe.” She smiles. Those crinkles at the edges of her eyes used to make Maura feel something. “You’re safe, Maur.”

Maura nods. She’s still not sure what Jane expects from her. “Thank you,” she says finally. “For telling me. And for my phone.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Jane stands up and wipes her hands on her pants. They must be sweaty. Maura remembers Jane’s hands get sweaty when she’s nervous. Why is she so nervous? She’s not the one missing giant chunks of time from her memory. She’s not the one who has no idea what happened to her. “So, my Ma will be here to take you home tomorrow, and I’m gonna stay with you for a few days to make sure you’re okay.”

Maura frowns at her. “Of course I’m okay. They wouldn’t be sending me home if I wasn’t.”

Jane tenses. Her fists close up again, clinging to her sides like saran wrap. “I know you’re physically fine. I mean…” she sighs. “Are you _okay_ , Maur?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Jane.” Jane’s name still feels strange on her tongue. She’s not sure why.

Jane doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, finally, she nods once and clears her throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She leaves before Maura can say anything else.

There’s a quiet emptiness that fills the room after Jane leaves that Maura feels quite palpably, but she doesn’t have the energy to try to think about what it means. She turns on her phone. It, of course, starts exploding with messages. She’s not sure which ones the detectives already opened in their search for whoever was behind everything, so she methodically clicks through each app and looks through what she’s missed.

There’s a few voice messages from Jane from the day she was abducted, one from Hope, and a _lot_ of unread emails. She leaves the voicemails for later. She doesn’t have the energy at the moment. She clicks on an email from Cavanaugh that was sent this morning. It takes a few times reading through before she understands what it says. He’s asking when she plans to come back to work.

Maura’s first instinct is to be furious. All she’s been through, and he has the audacity to ask her back to work when she hasn’t even left the hospital? No one seems to be taking her seriously right now, and this is just the latest example. Then she forces herself to think a little bit more. She pictures herself going back to the morgue, cutting open bodies, tracking down bad guys just like always.

The heart rate monitor beside her starts to speed up. She glances over to see it, again, climbing up over 100 bpm. That answers the question better than she could herself. Feeling a strange peace at the idea of giving up the job that gave her life the most meaning it had ever had, she starts typing a reply.

_Hello, Lt. Cavanaugh. I appreciate your reaching out during this time. I have decided that, due to the circumstances in which I find myself, it is in my best interest to resign from my position as Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, effective immediately. I hope you understand my decision, and I wish you the best in finding my replacement._

_Regards,_

_Dr. Maura Isles._

Maura presses _send_ without hesitation. She settles back into bed with a soft smile on her face, one hand on her thigh gently stroking the scars there, listening to the soft beeping of the heart rate monitor. She’s alive, they tell her. Today, against all odds, she’s alive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was supposed to have finished chapter 10 by today but i've barely started chapter 8 oops anyway i'll see y'all in 2020 for the next chapter !!!

The tension in the car is palpable as Angela stares straight ahead, white knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel. Maura keeps catching herself staring at Angela’s hands. Those hands have done so much. Made meals, given hugs, driven kids back and forth ad infinitum. Those hands have never hurt anyone. Never wrapped around a throat or closed into a fist and met a face or wielded a weapon worse than a wooden spoon.

Those hands have caressed Maura’s face more times than she can count. They’ve been there every single time she’s needed them. And now, they’re wound so tightly around the steering wheel because of Maura, because Maura snapped and now they may never touch her the same way again.

Maura tears her gaze away from Angela’s hands and stares into her lap instead. She can’t break down now. Not here. Neither of them has said a single word since leaving the hospital. The silence is absolutely deafening. She brings a hand to her right ear as though she can block it out. She knows it doesn’t make any sense, but she feels herself do it anyway. She feels herself do it as though her hand controls itself.

“Hey,” Angela murmurs, making Maura jump in her seat. “We’re here.”

Maura looks out the window. The car has stopped moving; when did it stop moving? She knows they’re in the back of the house; she recognizes the back garden and Angela’s guesthouse; she knows she’s home. She knows it. But her body doesn’t seem to react in the same way it used to.

She follows Angela with hesitant steps up the path to the back door, the one that leads to the kitchen, which is connected to the living room. Maura runs through her entire house in her mind before they even get to the door. It’s her house. She knows her house. Her house is her home and her home is her house – why isn’t she feeling relaxed? Why isn’t she feeling safe?

“Hey,” a voice says from the living room.

Maura jumps and whips around, ready to face whoever it is that’s in her house. “Jane,” she sighs as her brain catches up with her eyes. She lifts a hand to the side of her throat to feel the pounding of her heart. “What are you doing here in the middle of the day? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Jane shoves her hands in her pockets. “I left when Ma said you guys were on your way here. There was nothing going on anyway.”

“Of course.”

“Uh, how are you feeling?”

Maura glances around the room as though something in it will give her the answer. Nothing does. “I’m okay,” she says softly. Maybe she needs to hear it just as much as Jane does. Maybe it’s the truth, somehow, in a way. Maybe saying it will make it true. “I’m tired.”

Jane nods. She comes into the kitchen, slowly, hesitantly, like she’s walking into a lion’s den instead of the kitchen in her best friend’s house. Strangely, it makes Maura furious. “Do you want me to make you some coffee?”

Coffee would just make this strange anxiety she’s feeling that much more intense. It would make her heart beat even faster. Letting Jane make it for her would make her think Maura needs to be taken care of. “No. I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“I didn’t get much rest in the hospital,” Maura sighs. “The medication I was taking at night put me into an artificial sleep. I was merely unconscious, not resting.” She’s over-explaining. She knows it, but she keeps going anyway. “Sleep loss is cumulative. And, since I haven’t gotten a full night’s rest in a month, I’m going to need a lot to make up for it.” She catches Jane’s slight cringe at the mention of the past month, even as Jane tries to disguise it as a cough.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Jane says quietly. “I’ll be around all night in case you need anything.”

Maura offers a tight-lipped smile. She understands Jane’s concern, but she’s been under 24-hour care all week long. The last thing she needs is more people hovering. “Of course you will.” She draws her sweater around her against the sudden chill she feels and heads upstairs to her bedroom.

It almost knocks the breath out of her when she opens the door. It strikes her in this moment that she hasn’t been in her bedroom in nearly a month, but everything is exactly the same. She lets the door fall gently shut behind her. After a moment, she turns around and locks it.

The mattress seems to welcome her in as she sinks into it, soft memory foam that she had specially designed to provide maximum comfort. She lets out a heavy breath. For the first time since before she was abducted, she’s relaxed. She brings a hand to her throat and counts the beats of her heart. Seventy beats exactly in a minute. It’s a little higher than usual, but she hasn’t been working out this month, of course. She’s simply out of shape.

 _I’m alive_ , Maura reminds herself as her eyelids flutter closed. She folds her hands on top of her stomach and lets herself sink even further into the mattress. Her fingers tap a beat she doesn’t know on the backs of her hands. Without the plethora of medications they gave her in the hospital, she’s relying on exhaustion to take over and pull her into sleep even though it’s still light out.

And, soon enough, it does. She’s overtaken with images, scenes, some of them memories some of them not. Hands tight on her throat, tangled in her hair, anything but tender, pulling her this way and that as she scrambles for any sort of control. She tries to scream but no sound comes out. It’s like drowning in the air.

A banging on her bedroom door pulls her out of the nightmare. Maura forces her eyes open despite their protests. It felt like only a few minutes that she was asleep, but it’s dark in her room now. The persistent knocking continues accompanied by Jane calling her name, and Maura gets out of bed with a groan. Her limbs feel heavy as she moves to the door. “What?” she sighs, pulling the door open. “I’m sleeping.”

Jane’s eyes are wide and wild and filled with blatant fear, not hidden behind layers of steel like it usually is. “You were screaming. You yelled my name. I thought…”

Maura rubs at her tired eyes with the back of her hand. “Nightmares are typical after a traumatic event.”

“But you-”

“I’m tired, Jane,” Maura says before Jane can continue. “Please let me sleep.”

Jane bites at her bottom lip. “Could you leave the door unlocked? Just in case?”

“No. Good night.” Maura closes and locks the door, effectively cutting off any protest from Jane. She lies back down in bed, drawing the comforter around her, but she finds that she’s suddenly wide awake from the interruption. Her body is still responding to the nightmare, she notices, taking stock of everything she’s feeling. Her chest is tight, heart racing, and her legs are quivering just enough to make her notice.

Maura reaches down to attempt to still the shaking but finds her fingers drawn instead to the scars. She slowly traces each one with a featherlight touch. _One, two, three_ … she counts twenty-eight in total. She knows there are more, smaller ones that aren’t raised anymore, but she can’t count those without looking.

She feels her body start to relax as she counts again. She keeps counting, again and again, one to twenty-eight, until she finds herself slowly sinking back into sleep. She braces herself. Tonight, being asleep might be more terrifying than being awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do y'all like when i talk to you in these notes?? i like chatting but i'll stfu if it's detracting from the story or w/e


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 2020!!! hope you all had a great new years celebration and this year treats you right xx

Maura is relieved to see sunlight dancing through her blinds as she blinks awake. After a night of tossing and turning and waking up too many times, she wants nothing more than to get out of bed and get back to her routine. She smells coffee downstairs. Her nose gets the better of the rest of her senses, and she follows it down, not bothering to slip a long-sleeve over her t-shirt on the way. She doesn’t even consider it.

Jane offers a tentative smile over her coffee as Maura enters the kitchen. “Hey,” she says softly, setting her full mug down on the counter. “Did you sleep any better?”

“Not really,” Maura sighs. She slides onto the barstool at the counter. She eyes the mug in Jane’s hand. Considering Jane has never once attempted to make real coffee, there’s no reason to assume she’s been inspired to start today. “Is there anything besides instant?”

“Um…” Jane looks around for a second as if she can conjure some other coffee out of nowhere. “No. Sorry.” She chews on her lower lip. “I thought you would sleep in.”

Maura nods. It figures. She’ll just have to make her own once Jane is off on her way. “Don’t worry about it.” She taps her fingers absently on the countertop. When she looks up again, she notices Jane staring at her hands. No, not her hands. Maura follows her eyeline again directly to her wrists.

They’re no longer bandaged, and the scabs are thick and dark against her pale skin. She shifts her hands slightly so that the wounds are turned toward the counter, away from Jane’s prying eyes. “I’m fine,” she murmurs.

Jane nods. She’s still staring at Maura’s wrists, even though the cuts are hidden now. “Yeah,” she whispers, voice strained. “I know.” She clears her throat. “Um, I was meaning to talk to you about this yesterday, but I didn’t have time.”

Maura raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Uh, have you thought about your plan at all?” Jane drums her fingers on the counter. “Like, for how to… cope with everything?”

“I didn’t realize I needed one.”

Jane sighs. “Have you thought about seeing somebody? I mean, I know I give therapy a lot of shit but it actually ended up being pretty helpful after Hoyt.” Her hands have found each other now, thumbs rubbing at opposite palms. They always seem to do that at the mention of his name.

Therapy. Honestly, Maura hadn’t thought about it. Handing the most vulnerable parts of herself over to a stranger and paying them for the pleasure doesn’t strike her as something she needs. She’s a doctor; she even studied psychology in depth in medical school. She doesn’t need anyone else telling her how to handle this. She’s perfectly capable of handling it herself. “I don’t see why that would be necessary.”

“I just thought it might help,” Jane murmurs. “I can get you an appointment with-”

“I’m perfectly capable of making my own appointments, Jane,” Maura says with a sigh. “And my own decisions.”

“You mean like the decision to resign?” Jane mutters from behind her cup of coffee. “Cavanaugh told me about that. I convinced him to give you an extended leave instead.”

Maura feels herself stiffen. The sudden rage that rises in her feels so wild, so animalistic, she’s surprised she doesn’t actually snarl at Jane. “You went behind my back?” she manages to say in a somewhat even tone. “And you undermined the decision I made for myself?”

“Maura, you’re… you’re not thinking clearly right now.” Jane clenches and unclenches her fists. “You shouldn’t be making drastic changes like that.”

“I wasn’t aware you’d suddenly learned how to read minds.”

“That’s not what I…” Jane trails off. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. I mean, you love your job. I know how much you love it.”

Maura shakes her head. “Since I’ve started that career I’ve been held at gunpoint, targeted by not one but _two_ serial killers, found out my biological parents are a mob boss and a pathological liar, arrested and nearly convicted of murder, and been held hostage for nearly a month.” She looks up at Jane, who is staring down at the counter and avoiding Maura’s gaze.

“You weren’t kidnapped because of your job,” Jane says softly, barely even a whisper. “That was because of your connection to me.”

Maura nods slowly. She’s not sure how to respond to that. “So it was.” She starts tracing patterns on the countertop, following the flecks and spots in the granite. She glances up at the wall clock by the refrigerator. It’s past eight. “You should go. You’ll be late.”

Jane sighs. “Yeah. I know.” She moves her mug to the sink and runs some water into it. “I’ll be back later. And my phone is on if you need anything.”

Maura just nods. She can’t even begin to explain again that she can take care of herself. She thought she’d left being doted upon behind when she left diapers.

Jane goes to the door. She stops, hand on the doorknob, and turns around. The muscles in her forearm keep flexing and relaxing and flexing again. “Look, Maura,” she says. her voice is rough and scratchy. “You can push me away all you want but I’m not going anywhere. I’m not letting you go through this alone. Not for a second.” And then, in the blink of an eye, the door is slamming shut behind her.

* * *

The house is quiet. Maura’s still sitting by herself on the barstool, ears ringing with Jane’s words. _I’m not letting you go through this alone. Not for a second._ She’s not sure how much time has gone by since Jane left, but the pounding in her head has only gotten worse since. She needs coffee. Real coffee.

She starts the espresso machine, letting it heat up while she searches in the pantry for her coffee beans. She’d accumulated a large selection recently, due to signing up for a coffee subscription a few months earlier. There are a few bags she doesn’t recognize. Jane must have put them away from the subscription box.

In fact, Maura’s just realizing she didn’t come home to any packages at all, which made no sense considering her susceptibility to a good sale. And Lord knows she’s been particularly stressed as of late. Jane must have been taking care of it for her, opening the packages and putting things away. Maura’s fingers rest on one of the unopened coffee bags for a moment. Jane didn’t mention it at all.

Usually, when Jane does a favor for her family members or even one of her coworkers, she milks it for weeks. With Maura, though, that’s never been the case. Maura racks her brain for all the quiet things Jane does for her, unnoticed and unacknowledged. She realizes she probably doesn’t even know the half of it.

She takes the bag she’s touching out of the pantry without even looking at what flavor it is. It smells delicious when she opens it. She allows herself to inhale deeply, taking in the full depth of the aroma. It’s been far too long since she’s had any coffee at all, much less coffee like this. It smells rich, full-bodied, almost enough to make her stop thinking about the fight she just had with Jane.

Almost. But there it is again. How can she forget what she said? There’s no tiptoeing around it; Maura threw all her anger at Jane, who was armed with nothing but good intentions. It wasn’t right. Maura drops her head into her hands and leans her elbows on the counter. What _is_ right in a situation like this?

As a doctor, she knows anger like that is expected after a traumatic event. As a person, though, she’s furious with herself for allowing it to be so misguided. She clenches her fists in her hair. She’s losing control of herself. She used to be able to rein in her feelings so easily, to paint on a blank face and get through anything. But now, she’s unraveling.

The espresso machine whistles to signal it’s done heating up, and Maura pulls her head up to look at it. The steam coming off of it is beautiful. She finds herself mesmerized by the curl of it as it rises, following it all the way up to the ceiling where it dissipates.

Her gaze focuses on a tiny black mark on the side of the machine. She remembers where it came from. Two years ago, she bumped it and burned her wrist. The scar is still visible if she looks closely enough. And then she does, searching her skin until she finds the tiny patch of slightly darker flesh. She runs her hand over it. The swelling is completely gone now; she can’t even feel it if she closes her eyes.

Her fingers tighten as, outside, the peaceful silence is broken with a loud _bang._ Instantly, Maura feels her body drop. She opens her eyes to find herself on the floor, hunched behind the counter, a white-knuckled grip on the legs of the barstool in front of her. She doesn’t remember making the choice to crouch down. She doesn’t even remember exactly what she’s reacting to.

She knows what’s happening, of course. Her body is producing norepinephrine. Her fight, flight or freeze response is being activated. Her amyg… she tightens her grip on the stool. She knows this. Her am… the word is lost. Her brain is failing her. For the first time, science is failing her. Here, now, she’s not a genius or a doctor; she’s just a scared woman on the floor, terrified of absolutely nothing.

Time passes. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. It’s impossible to tell. Slowly, Maura stands up on shaking legs, bracing herself against the counter. Everything is quiet. She takes a few deep breaths, inhaling the scent of the coffee beans and the heat of the coffee press.

She looks at the machine again. Really looks at it. Every part of her brain screams at her, tells her to stop thinking what she’s thinking, but it’s no use. Once Maura sets her mind on something, it’s practically impossible to change it. Slowly, she reaches out a shaking hand and, squeezing her eyes shut, she presses the inside of her arm directly to the side of the machine.

She cries out as she feels her skin pucker and sizzle. Instinctively, she yanks her arm away after barely a second. She rests her arm in her opposite hand, cradling it in some strange parody of intimacy, and stares at it. “Oh, God,” she whispers aloud as tears spring to her eyes. There’s no doubt in her mind now. She’s completely unraveling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i made y'all hang off that cliff for a week lol guess i'm just mean like that
> 
> also i just finished editing chapter 7 and i feel i should warn y'all now...... good luck with that one

Maura stares at her arm in disbelief for a minute or so. The smell of burning flesh is starting to fill her nose, causing the tears in her eyes to spill onto her cheeks. They’re hot against her chilled face. She wipes at her eyes, attempts to focus her vision enough to examine the wound, the doctor part of her mind taking over the emotional part.

It doesn’t look like it will cause permanent damage. If she had to pin it, she would say it’s first degree, but it toes the line between first and second. If she treats it now the scar won’t be as bad. Almost robotically, she goes to the sink and runs her arm under cold water, wincing at the initial contact. With her free hand, she pulls out the drawer beside the sink and grabs the roll of gauze.

Her hand pauses on the roll. It’s the same one she used the last time she got burned. Or, more accurately, the one Hope used. And left here. The same kind she used on Paddy Doyle. Maura shudders at the thought. But, despite its associations in her mind, the gauze is the best quality she has on hand. She wraps the gauze around the wound a few times, pressing into place, gritting her teeth again at the pressure.

With the gauze on her arm and her mind on Hope, Maura is reminded of the voicemail from Hope on her phone, the one she still hasn’t opened. She grabs her phone from the counter. The message is still there. Less than a minute long, the only thing from Hope in the past year. She clicks on it before she can hesitate. Hope’s soft, lilting voice crackles through the tiny speaker.

_“Hi, Maura. I… I don’t know why I’m calling. Angela told me what’s happened. I suppose I just hoped… well, never mind that. Just come home safe.”_

And that’s it. Maura frowns at her phone. She’s not sure what she expected, if she’s being honest, but it was certainly a bit more than that. A bit more of… something. She plays it again, listening closely for that _something_ she’s so desperate to hear, but it’s simply not there. That’s simply all there is.

Maura jumps at the sound of the back door being opened and whirls around to face whoever it is. She places a hand over her racing heart. “Angela,” she says breathlessly. “I didn’t know you were home. Don’t you have to be at work?”

Angela shakes her head. “Not today.” She comes into the kitchen to stand beside Maura, seeming not to notice how Maura stiffens as she approaches. “I’m sorry I scared you, honey.”

“It’s okay. I’m just jumpy.”

“I don’t blame you.” Angela starts shuffling through pantries, presumably searching for something to eat. She turns back to face Maura. She opens her mouth to speak, but instead, her eyes focus right in on the fresh bandage on Maura’s arm. “That one’s new, isn’t it?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. “What happened?”

Maura feels her whole body jump into panic as she weighs her options. She can’t lie, of course. But telling Angela the truth after hiding her past for so long? It’s unthinkable. She chooses her words carefully. “I bumped my arm on the coffee maker.” She hopes Angela will take the implication that it was accidental, won’t ask any more questions, will leave the topic there and move on.

There’s a pause, probably not as long as it feels, then Angela nods slowly. “You should put some aloe on that. I’ve got some if you don’t.”

It feels like finally breathing air after being underwater for far too long. Maura releases a breath, disguising it quickly as a gentle laugh, and nods. “Thank you. I think I have some somewhere.”

Another pause. There’s tension here, between them, so thick Maura feels she could reach out and touch it. She can tell there’s something waiting on Angela’s tongue, held back only by… fear, perhaps? Yes. Fear of Maura’s response. _God,_ she thinks to herself. _I’ve really turned into someone I don’t recognize_.

Finally, Angela clears her throat to speak. “How are you feeling, hon?”

There’s obviously more to the question that what it seems. Maura, even with everything she’s learned about social cues, still has trouble picking out subtext. She searches the words in her head, coming up with nothing. “What do you mean?” she asks, resigned to the fact she’ll never figure it out.

“I, uh, I know you and Janie had a tiff this morning.” Angela’s gaze flicks down to the counter, then back up to Maura. “I know she can be pushy. Trust me,” she adds with a hearty laugh. “But she does it out of love. For you.”

Maura sighs. “I know.” She’s already gone through it all in her mind. She’s got proof of that, still stinging beneath the gauze. “I just… I need to have the space to make my own choices. I’m a grown woman. I know what’s best for me.”

Angela smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners like they always do. Like they always will. “Good luck trying to explain that to a Rizzoli.”

The words strike Maura harder than she expects. Maybe it is just how Jane is. Maybe it has nothing to do with her thinking Maura is incompetent or weak. It’s no secret that the Rizzoli’s tend to be opinionated, sticking their noses where they don’t belong at the worst of times. Maybe this is just one of those times.

Or, of course, maybe it isn’t. It’s entirely possible that, in the wake of Maura’s kidnapping, Jane has decided she can no longer be trusted with her own life. After all, what kind of person can’t tell the difference between a real dispatch call and a fake one? With all her genius, Maura never thought she would be that kind. She never thought she would be the kind to be abducted at all.

And, yet.

“Maura?” Angela says hesitantly, bringing Maura back to the conversation. “Hey, where’d you go just now?”

“Sorry.” Maura clears her throat. “Just thinking. Nothing important.”

Angela nods slowly. She glances down at Maura’s phone on the counter. “Have you talked to Hope yet?” she says softly. “Does she know you’re home?”

Maura winces. Sometimes it feels like Angela really does have a sixth sense for these things. “No, I haven’t. I actually only just heard her voicemail a few minutes ago.”

“Voicemail?”

“Oh. I thought you would know already.” She assumed Jane had been telling Angela everything during the time Maura was gone. “She left me a message the day I was…” Maura bites her lip. She still hasn’t said it out loud. She still doesn’t know how. “I assume it was right after you spoke with her.”

“What did she say?”

Maura picks up her phone and opens the message again, playing it for Angela. All measly thirty seconds of it. She tries to block it out, but her ears take in the words, again, the words that, even each with their individual definitions, manage to mean nothing at all. “That’s it. She didn’t try to contact me again at all.”

“Because she didn’t know whether you’d come home.”

“Did she contact you? Or Jane? At all?” Maura curls her fingers into a tight fist. Her fingernails press into her palm, no doubt leaving tiny crescents in their place. She already knows the answer. She knows it, but she needs to hear it.

Angela pauses. She stares at her hands, clasped in front of her. It reminds Maura of Jane. It always strikes her how much Jane takes after her mother, no matter how she denies it. Finally, wordlessly, Angela shakes her head. It’s exactly what Maura expected, but the impact of it is far heavier than she ever could have prepared for.

It’s like a weight is dropped into her stomach. She physically recoils from it, taking a step back from Angela and bracing herself against the counter. She should have known better than to expect anything else from Hope. She should have learned by now. But, again, here she is, struck down by Hope’s hand.

“Honey, you should call her,” Angela says. “She’s probably worried sick. She’ll want to hear from you, know you’re home safe.”

Maura smiles, but she’s sure it looks more like a grimace as she feels her facial muscles contract. “Don’t sound so sure.” She shakes her head. “You can call her, if you feel so inclined. Just make sure she knows I don’t want her to come here.”

Angela seems like she wants to say something, but she changes her mind, closing her mouth and simply nodding instead. She turns back to the cabinets, perusing through them once more. “Can I make you some breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry. Thank you, though.”

Angela turns back around, hand still holding the cabinet open. “You haven’t eaten since we left the hospital yesterday.” She looks at her watch. “That’s… almost twenty hours.”

“Oh.” Maura didn’t realize it had been even close to that long since she last ate anything. She really just hasn’t been hungry. Even now, her stomach churns at the thought of eating anything. “It’s just a side effect of the pain medications I was on,” she says. She’s fishing, of course. But it’s not lying. Most pain medications have an effect on appetite, and it’s likely this has interfered with hers.

And, if she tells herself she doesn’t know the real reason, maybe she can believe it, too. “I’m okay, Angela. I’ll eat something when I feel up to it.”

Angela frowns. “There’s hardly any of you left,” she murmurs. She looks Maura up and down.

Maura shifts uncomfortably under the intensity of Angela’s gaze. “I’ll eat when I feel up to it,” she says again, but the certainty isn’t there this time. She knows she’s lost weight. Joe Harris didn’t spring for three balanced meals a day while he had her. She was lucky to get one. If she had to guess, she would say she’s at least twenty pounds lighter than before it all happened.

She was on a feeding tube for a time in the hospital, but only until she was able to eat solid food. It wasn’t nearly enough to restore the weight and the nutrients she’s lost. She’ll have to do the rest of that work herself. “Tell Jane to stop at the bakery on her way back here,” she says. “I haven’t had a good croissant in a while.”

Angela looks hesitant, but she nods. “Are you sure you don’t want anything now?”

“I’m sure. But I promise I will eat a pastry this afternoon.” Maura’s stomach flips at the thought, but she ignores it. She’ll be up to it later. She’ll have to be. “Excuse me, I’m going to get dressed. I think I’m going to spend today out in the garden.”

Angela smiles. “Yeah, you could use some sun,” she says with a teasing grin. “I’ll tell Jane about the croissants.” She busies herself with getting food together as Maura retreats toward her bedroom. “Hey, Maura,” she calls just before Maura starts up the stairs. “It’s really good to have you home.”

Maura pauses with her hand on the banister. She doesn’t reply. She makes her way slowly up the staircase, telling herself with each step that _it’s good to be home. It’s good to be home. It’s good to be…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> silent readers: what's up?? how's it going??? i love y'all!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my semester started this week so wish me luck trying to keep up my writing schedule lmao

The sound of the door opening and closing doesn’t register in Maura’s brain until the TV is being paused and a to-go box is being set down in front of her. She looks up to see Jane standing in front of her. “Is something wrong?” she asks.

Jane points to the box. “I brought your favorite. _My_ fries.” She smirks. Sure enough, the box has Jane’s name written on it in her own messy handwriting. She sits down next to Maura on the couch, looking at her expectantly, obviously waiting for Maura to take the fries.

Maura offers what she hopes is a smile. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

“Maur, you’ve said that every single time I’ve offered you food.” Jane sighs. “Have you even eaten at all today?”

“I…” Maura tries to cycle through the day. “I had some yogurt this morning.”

Jane pulls her hands together in her lap. “That’s it?” She shakes her head. “You’ve been home for almost a week, and I haven’t seen you eat one single thing. You haven’t even moved from that spot since I left this morning. You can’t let yourself… waste away.”

Maura eyes the box out of the corner of her eye. She can see the grease on the bottom of the cardboard. The scent wafts toward her, and she has to admit even to herself that she is, in fact, hungry. She feels her stomach rumble. But, despite all that, the thought of actually putting the fries in her mouth and swallowing them down is throwing her mind and stomach into a tailspin. “I’m just not hungry,” she sighs.

“I just heard your stomach grumble.”

“Jane, please. Just leave it.”

“No.” Jane leans forward, eyes imploring and begging. “Maura, come on,” she says. “This isn’t like you.”

Maura shakes her head. She stares straight back at Jane, searching inside herself to feel something. Anything. Nothing comes. “You don’t know what I’m like.”

“Of course I do. I know you.” Jane sighs. Her hands twitch, like they’re trying to reach forward, but don’t. “You’re Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.” She pauses to think. “You love learning new things and telling everyone about all the things you’ve learned, and we all make fun of you for it and maybe we should stop because it’s really cool that you know all of that.”

Maura flicks her eyes down into her lap. She feels her body soften just slightly. Her eyes flick over to the box of fries still on the table, no doubt cold by now, but somehow becoming more and more appetizing the longer they sit. She keeps staring at them as Jane presses on.

“You are so dedicated to your job that it amazes me every day. You never take a day off, and you never rest until a case is solved. You inspire me.” There’s a pause. When Jane resumes, her voice is choppy, as though she’s holding back tears. “You have this way of loving people that… I’ve never experienced before I met you. It’s quiet, like, I didn’t even know you liked me for a long time. But when anyone you love is in trouble you drop everything to help them out. Or you stock their favorite beer in your fridge all the time even though you don’t like beer. Or you let their mom live with you for free even though she’s the most obnoxious person in the entire world.”

Maura looks up again to see Jane wiping at her eyes. She should do something to ease Jane’s sorrow. She should reach out, take her hand, squeeze it like she always does. She should rub gentle circles around the scar on Jane’s palm. An image flashes in her mind, maybe a memory, maybe a dream. Both of Jane’s hands wrapped around one of Maura’s, and she’s smiling and she’s crying, and she’s leaning forward. Maura blinks away the visual. Her hands don’t move.

“And,” Jane continues, “you have this crazy infectious smile and when you laugh, I just have to stop and listen because I always forget how beautiful that sound is until I hear it.” And then she stops. Her breathing is starting to get heavy, and it’s clear that she’s on the verge of a heavy sob.

There’s a long, very pregnant silence. Maura runs her tongue over her lips. She doesn’t know how to feel. The woman Jane described was, indeed, someone Maura once was and once knew very well. But she hasn’t been that person since the day she was kidnapped. That person was taken from her. She looks up at Jane. Even to her own ears, her voice sounds unbelievably cold when she speaks. “That was someone else.”

“Maura-”

“Thank you for the fries.” Maura stands up and picks up the box of fries, wincing as the grease hits her fingers. She takes the box to her bedroom. She tries to find some semblance of guilt in her, for completely bailing on Jane, but she can’t seem to muster any at all.

Sitting on the bed with the door locked, Maura pops open the box. The scent immediately fills her nose. Greasy, salty, and all too familiar. She can conjure up a hundred memories of sitting in a booth at the Dirty Robber, surrounded by this same smell, stealing these same fries off of Jane’s plate and insisting she doesn’t need to order her own.

Maura picks up a fry and lifts it to her face. It’s cold, but she doesn’t mind. Somehow, it’s better that way. It’s less intimidating. Slowly, hesitantly, she bites into it. She chews slowly. The fry is soft and chewy, not the crispness she’s used to. The salt runs over her tongue, sharp, distinct.

She swallows the fry around the lump in her throat. It’s cold and slimy as it slides down, and she winces as it hits her stomach. Her body is stiff, tensed up against the invasion, trying and failing to fend it off.

Maura reaches for another fry as her stomach churns. She manages to force down a few more before she has to stop. Her fingers clench into fists of their own accord. She can feel herself start to descend into panic again as her hands start to quiver and her lower lip slips between her teeth. She tries to steady her breathing, but it’s no use.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she raises her hands to cover her ears. Something is overwhelmingly loud, and she can’t place what it is. It’s like she’s pushing against some current, alone in the black ocean, fighting just to stay above water and take another breath.

Suddenly, like a flash of light, one thought cuts clearly through the chaos, holding its hand out to her, offering itself as her only lifeline. Maura opens her eyes. She knows how to reach the surface. There’s a nail file on her bedside table, one of the metal ones with the pointed tip.

Maura picks up the file and holds it with a white-knuckled grip. She just stares at it for a moment. She knows she’ll regret this. She knows it. But her skin is singing to her as she slips the waistband of her pants down to her knees and brings the cool metal to meet it, pressing down and dragging it slowly across her hip.

She sucks in a sharp breath as blood springs to meet the nail file. She repeats the process just a little lower. And again. And again. And then she notices. It’s quiet now. The silence lays over her shoulders like a thick, wet blanket. She realizes then that the deafening noise she was hearing before was the sound of her own breathing. She was practically screaming trying to catch her breath.

But now, it’s quiet. Maura wrenches her fist open to drop the file onto the bed beside her as she stares at the four jagged lines on her hip, red and angry, tiny dots of blood growing larger and trickling down her leg. She watches it flow with a sick sense of wonder.

She glances at her bedroom door. Jane didn’t follow her upstairs. She’s not knocking, demanding an explanation for why Maura ran away from her. She’s probably still on the couch, wondering what she said wrong, searching for the words to fix it. Jane always wants to fix things.

Maura turns her gaze back to her leg. She leans over and pulls a tissue from the box on her dresser and presses it to the cuts to soak up the blood before it stains her clothes. As she watches the tissue turn red, she makes herself a promise she intends to keep until the day she dies.

 _Jane can never know_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise it'll get better soon just hang in there with me!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few things!!
> 
> 1\. this chapter is super long, emotionally charged, and contains lots of potentially triggering content
> 
> 2\. i will not be posting a chapter next week. i'm a little behind where i'd like to be on my writing schedule, and my new semester at school has hit me HARD. i want to make sure i'm giving this story the time it deserves. this chapter should be plenty to tide you over till february 7th!!
> 
> 3\. don't hate me lol i swear it's gonna get better

For two weeks, Maura finds herself sneaking around in her own home like a shy little child. She tiptoes downstairs every morning, listening around corners, careful to avoid Jane and Angela as much as possible. It’s not of any ill will, of course. She just can’t handle their probing stares, their poking and prodding at everything Maura does.

_Have you eaten yet? Are you sleeping? Why are you so angry?_

Maura pads softly down the stairs that morning on bare feet, slipping up against the wall that divides the living room and the kitchen. She can hear Jane and Angela talking in the kitchen.

“It’s just horrible,” Angela says.

Jane sighs loudly enough for it to carry all the way to Maura. Maura can see clearly in her mind the way Jane is probably rubbing at her temples right now. “I know, Ma. It is.”

“How long did he have her?”

“She was reported missing about a week before we found the body,” Jane says. “As usual, Pike is giving me absolutely nothing to go on. I don’t know where to start with this one.”

Maura presses herself closer to the wall. Of course, Dr. Pike is driving everyone crazy. It’s the only thing he’s good at. She wonders, for a moment if they’re working on finding her replacement. Maybe Dr. Pike is her replacement. The thought makes her shudder.

There’s a sound of paper rattling. It sounds like photo paper. Jane must be looking at case photos over her morning coffee, as she so often does. It’s like she somehow thinks that viewing the files at home will give her a different pair of eyes. “Look at her wrists,” she says, almost inaudibly.

“God,” Angela whispers. “It looks like…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, but it’s obvious what was meant to fill the space.

 _Me_. Maura glances down at her own wrists. Three weeks down the road of healing and the wounds aren’t nearly as difficult to look at as they were before. The scabs have almost all finished peeling away, leaving delicate, pink skin in their place, raised and rough all the way around the circumference of her wrists.

She runs her right hand lightly over the scar on her left wrist. They’re still tender to the touch. Her left hand jerks back reflexively and knocks against the wall with a loud _smack_. She winces. She’s blown her cover.

“Maura, is that you?” Angela calls.

Slowly, Maura rounds the corner into the kitchen wearing what she hopes is a smile. “Good morning,” she says softly.

Jane quickly stacks up the photos and flips them over, but not before Maura catches a glimpse of the victim’s wrists. Angela was right. They look just like her own. “Hey,” Jane says with a half-smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.” Maura opens the refrigerator and browses for a moment, more to avoid eye contact than anything. She’s not hungry.

“What are you doing today?” Jane asks. “Maybe you could come down to BPD for lunch or something. Everyone wants to see you.”

Maura tightens her grip on the refrigerator door handle. The thought of going back there, with everyone clamoring over her, touching her, asking her questions she’s not prepared to answer, gives her chills. Luckily, she’s got a way out. “I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Just my yearly exam.” Maura closes the refrigerator and turns to face Jane. “I scheduled it months ago.”

Jane nods. “Okay.” She clears her throat. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“What? No.” Maura furrows her brow. “I’m perfectly capable of going to my appointments on my own.”

“Right.” Jane slips her bottom lip between her teeth. “Sorry,” she says, muffled.

“It’s fine.” Maura glances at the pile of photos face-down at the counter, for a moment wondering if she should ask about them. Maybe Jane intended for her to see them. Another plea to try to get Maura to come back to work. “Good luck with your case,” she says after a long moment, the closest she’ll get to extending an olive branch.

Jane smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She doesn’t say anything else as Maura slides past Angela and back upstairs to get ready for her day.

* * *

Maura has been seeing Dr. Williams for nearly a decade now. They’ve developed an easy, friendly rapport with one another, doctor to doctor. Dr. Williams is fully aware that if Maura could possibly perform her exams on herself, she would, and is never pushy with her recommendations and instructions. She is everything Maura needs from her doctors.

Today, though, for some reason, Maura can’t seem to calm herself down as she drives to Dr. Williams’ office. Her heart is practically in her throat the whole way there. There’s absolutely no reason she should be afraid of her routine gynecological exam. Yet, here she is. If she was prone to hyperbole (she isn’t) she might say she’s having a heart attack by the time she’s in the gown with her feet in the stirrups.

“Are you feeling okay?” Dr. Williams asks with a frown. She’s seated square between Maura’s legs, staring up at her with that headband flashlight that always reminds Maura of a coal miner.

Maura offers what she hopes is a smile. “Just a little stressed today. Nothing to be worried about.”

Dr. Williams nods. “Okay, do you have any concerns before I get started? Changes from last year?”

“No.”

“Let’s get going, then.” Dr. Williams brings the speculum to Maura’s body, cold and hard and familiar. It’s always the same every year. The slight shock at the cold metal, the feeling of being stretched open, the slight shudder she tries to disguise every time it slides over the sensitive spot. This time, though, when the metal touches the entrance, a bolt of searing pain shoots through Maura’s entire body, and she can’t stifle a yelp.

Immediately, Dr. Williams pulls the speculum away. “Some pain there?”

“Yes, I – I’m not sure why. That’s never happened before.” Suddenly, breathing is difficult. Maura labors to get air into her lungs.

“Any pain with intercourse lately?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had intercourse in several months.” Which is strange, Maura realizes. She’s usually a very sexual creature, and not ashamed of it in the slightest. She didn’t realize how long it’s been until just now.

Dr. Williams puts the speculum down. “Let’s use the smaller one today.” She stands up and gets the smaller speculum, settling back down between Maura’s legs to lubricate it. “Okay, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

This one hurts too. Not as sharply as the big one, but more of a dull burn as it cranks open, wider and wider. Maura manages to bite her tongue. She’s quite sure Dr. Williams doesn’t have an even smaller one than this. Dr. Williams silently does the swab and sets it to the side, writing some things down in her notes before slowly closing up the speculum and slipping it out.

Once the pain was over, the whole thing took no more than a few minutes. Maura feels a little ridiculous for having reacted the way she did. She sits up on the table, taking a moment to adjust as the blood rushes away from her head.

“Okay, Maura,” Dr. Williams says, clearing her throat. “I have a couple of things I want to discuss before you head home.” She picks up her clipboard and flips through it. “First thing is your weight. You’re almost thirty pounds lighter than a year ago. And, as I’m sure you know, well below the healthy range for a woman of your age and height.”

Maura winces slightly. She promised Jane and Angela she would do better about gaining the weight back, but she knows hasn’t been eating like she should. Now she’s faced with evidence. “I’m aware,” she sighs. “I’m working on it.”

“Second is that pain around the vulva. I don’t remember that ever being an issue for you.”

“My muscles are just underutilized at the moment.” Maura feels her face turn red. She didn’t think she’d be spending the day defending her sex life – or lack thereof – to her doctor.

“Third,” Dr. Williams sighs. “And this is the big one. When I was doing your internal exam I found some scar tissue in your vagina and around your cervix that I know wasn’t there a year ago.” She leans slightly closer to Maura. “Now, you don’t have to tell me anything. But I want to invite you to talk with me about what may have happened if you’d like.”

Maura’s fists tighten in her lap. The pieces are clicking into place in her mind, and, as much as she wants to go on not thinking about it, the scientist in her can’t deny the evidence any longer. Something must have happened when Joe Harris had her. The only question now is why she doesn’t remember it. “I’d like copies of your notes,” she says, cursing her broken voice. “From last year and from today.”

Dr. Williams nods. “I’ll just need about twenty minutes to get them into the computer.”

“I can wait.”

“Okay.” Dr. Williams offers her a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t you get dressed and head out to the lobby, and I’ll have one of the girls out there get you the paperwork, okay?” She stands up. “You know where to reach me if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” Maura’s voice is hoarse, barely audible around the scratchiness. Once the door is closed and she’s alone, she doesn’t start getting dressed right away. She sits for a minute on the table in her paper gown, racking her memory, practically ransacking her brain for anything that can help her remember what happened. There’s nothing. Where there should be memories, there’s just empty space.

Somehow, while her mind is a thousand miles away, her body manages to get her clothes on and walk her back out to the lobby, and she finds herself in a chair without remembering how she got there. There’s a clipboard in her lap with a form half-filled out in her own handwriting.

 _Authorization of Release of Records_ is stamped across the top. Right. The form to obtain Dr. Williams’ notes. She finishes the form in a much shakier hand than the first half and brings it to the receptionist, sitting back down in the chair with a racing heart.

She has no idea how long she sits there waiting. Maybe two minutes, maybe an hour. But, at some point, the receptionist taps her on the shoulder and hands her a sealed orange folder with a too-wide smile. “Have a good day,” she says cheerily.

“Thank you.” Maura shuffles out of the office as quickly as she can on her stiff, uncooperative legs. The drive home is agonizing as she runs into rush hour traffic. Luckily, though, no one is there when she arrives home. Jane must be working late on the case, and who knows where Angela is. Out with Ron, perhaps.

Maura sits down on the couch and opens the folder, laying out the pages of neatly typed notes on the coffee table. She chews absently on the pad of her thumb as she reads.

_Significant scar tissue present on vaginal walls and cervix. Cervix not pierced. Patient does not disclose traumatic event._

“Patient does not disclose traumatic event,” Maura reads aloud. She smirks to herself. “How about ‘patient does not _remember_ traumatic event’?” She stands up, leaving the pages where they are, and goes to the kitchen. Her mind is spinning. She needs something.

There’s no wine in the refrigerator, but Maura manages to find a nearly empty bottle of citrus vodka shoved to the back. Angela must have made something with it a long time ago. Maura wrinkles her nose as she opens the bottle and takes a whiff. She hates vodka. But it’ll do the job.

She practically chokes on it as she takes a sip straight from the bottle. It burns her throat. After a long coughing fit, she’s surprised to find that her head already feels fuzzy just from a sip. She didn’t think of it, but after nearly two months of not drinking and a significant drop in weight, of course her tolerance will have changed.

She forces down one more gulp for good measure before putting the bottle back where she found it. Already, everything feels different. Less sharp. Maura makes her way back to the couch on wobbly legs and sinks back into the cushions. As her mind relaxes, images start making their way into her consciousness, things that feel like memories.

There’s a flash of a hand on her throat, tugging at her hair. The next second, gripping her hip and leaving finger-shaped bruises in their place. The next second, a phantom hand slips between her legs, pushing against her resistance. Tears spring to her eyes. Her entire body shudders as sobs force their way out of her throat, echoing throughout the empty house.

Maura forces her eyes open, realizing much too late that they had fallen shut. She tries to push back against the images. It’s no use. They keep forcing their way in, bombarding her mind’s eye with memories she regrets asking for. She stands up, still struggling to breathe around heaving sobs. Her hands start working without the direction of her brain, gathering up the pages on the table into a haphazard stack and carrying them to the bathroom off the living room.

She’s going to flush them. Every page, every stupid word. They’re going to go down the drain, out of her house, out of her mind. Maybe then she’ll stop seeing these things. She’ll go back to not knowing. Just this once, ignorance is bliss.

Maura throws the pages onto the bathroom counter and lifts the toilet lid. But, before she can start tearing up the pages and throwing them into the bowl, her eye is caught by something else on the counter. Silver, gleaming, practically calling her name. The razor sits on the edge of the sink with the handle resting just inches from her greedy fingertips.

Her breath catches in her throat as her sobs subside. Her fingers slide across the smooth counter until they make contact with the handle of the razor. It must be Jane’s. Maura can’t remember the last time she shaved. Grooming hasn’t been her top priority lately. She tightens her grip as she lifts the razor to her other hand, easily breaking off the head and removing one of the skinny blades from its plastic cartridge.

 _They really make these too easy to take apart_ , she thinks to herself. _What if a child were to get to this?_ She unbuttons her pants with her left hand and slips them halfway down her thighs, bringing the razor to her skin with her right. She doesn’t press down right away. She savors, for a moment, the feeling just before, the sick anticipation before the sharp sting.

And then, with the precision only a doctor of her caliber could, she flicks her wrist and drags the blade across her thigh. One. Two. Three. The metal bites her skin, all teeth, followed by the blood pressing gentle kisses in its wake. She lets the razor drop onto the counter with a disproportionately loud clatter.

She stares at her reflection. Mirror Maura stares back at her, eyes red and cheeks still glistening with wet tears. Maura wipes at her eyes. She realizes then, too late, that this is the first time she’s cried since coming home. She’s been home almost as long as she was in captivity, but only now did she finally cry.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. The blood is starting to drip down her leg, staining the inside of her pants. She shakes her head. She never much liked these pants, anyway. She pulls them back up and buttons them in place, not bothering to wipe up the blood. And, not wanting the reminder of what she’s done staring her in the face, she picks up the broken pieces of the razor and throws them into the garbage.

Her reflection catches her eye again, and she looks up. She barely recognizes herself. Mirror Maura seems much older than her, sagging under some invisible weight. Her eyes are haunted and glassy. And, of course, she’s impossibly skinny. Her collarbone juts out of her chest like a weapon, like you could use it to cut glass.

Maura keeps watching herself in the mirror as she reaches a hand up to hold a piece of her hair between her fingers. She drops it. It’s greasy. She can’t remember the last time she washed it. She can count on one hand the number of showers she’s managed since coming home.

She tries to run through a list in her mind of all the hands that have been in her hair. The entire list is a blur – Jane, Ian, Angela, Dennis – but it hits a hard stop at Joe Harris. Those hands were all over her hair. Pulling it, stroking it, cutting it off. Her heart starts racing at the memory. Suddenly, his hands are the only thing she sees when she looks at her hair. She can’t look at it anymore.

Maura knows Ian left his electric trimmer here somewhere when he last disappeared. She tears apart the house looking for it. Somewhere between a minute and an hour later, she finds it in a box in her bedroom closet, tucked in the folds of one of his old t-shirts. She takes it back to the bathroom with a white-knuckled grip.

Mirror Maura stares back at her with a locked jaw and steely eyes. Maura watches herself switch the razor on and lift it to her temple. With barely any hesitation, she shears a line around the back of her head, watching locks of dirty blonde fall to the floor around sock-clad feet. A weight, both literal and figurative, falls away with each hair.

Maura grins. She can’t believe how alive she suddenly feels. It’s something she hasn’t felt since before Joe Harris. She shaves another line, and another, and another, until the top of her head is bare and she finds she can’t twist around to reach the back.

The front door opens, causing her to jump and nearly drop the clippers in the sink. _It’s only Jane_ , she tells herself. Sure enough, there’s a gentle knock at the bathroom door accompanied by Jane’s soft, raspy voice. “Hey, you okay?”

“Come in,” Maura hears herself say. Her voice sounds foreign to her own ears. She turns the razor off, but keeps a tight grip on it.

The door swings open. Jane stops short in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. She kicks aside some hair with the toe of her boot. “Maura, what’s going on?”

Maura hands Jane the razor. “Will you help me get the back?”

“Yeah.” Jane positions herself behind Maura, thankfully not asking any more questions. She’s taller than usual with Maura barefoot. Her hand hovers over Maura’s shoulder. “Can I touch here? I need to keep you steady.”

Maura feels herself tense up. The threat of physical contact still sends alarm bells through her entire body. But, she decides, it’s time to start breaking that barrier. “Yes,” she says. it comes out more as a breath than a voiced word.

Jane’s fingers flutter in the air for a second before coming to rest feather-light on Maura’s shoulder. And, like that old cliché about starving people not realizing they were hungry until they were offered bread, Maura didn’t realize how badly she craved being touched until Jane’s hand was there on her shoulder. Skin touching skin like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And maybe it is.

Maura lets out a breath. The world isn’t collapsing around her. She’s still here, standing in the bathroom, with Jane’s hand on her shoulder and half a head of hair. She gives a smile that’s the closest to genuine she’s felt in a long time.

“You ready?” Jane asks, flicking on the razor.

Maura nods. She appreciates Jane making sure she’s all right with every step. She flinches as the razor touches the back of her head. It stops moving. “Keep going,” she says. “I’m okay.” She keeps her eyes trained on the mirror as she watches the remainder of her hair fall away. She tries to focus on the anchor of Jane’s hand steady on her shoulder. Her mind threatens to wander, but she guides it back to that hand.

Soon enough, all of Maura’s hair is gone and her shoulders are unbearably itchy. She looks at herself, feeling her eyes grow wet again and the first real smile since coming home grow on her face.

“You like it?” Jane asks hesitantly.

Maura can only nod. “Thank you,” she whispers. She reaches a hand up to cover Jane’s still resting on her shoulder. She tries to say with her fingers what she can’t with her lips.

Jane gently squeezes Maura’s shoulder. “So… you wanna talk to me about whatever brought all this on?”

Maura doesn’t say anything for a moment. Maybe it’s just the alcohol, but there’s a tug in her to tell Jane everything. All the rage she’s been clinging to the past few weeks is suddenly nowhere to be found. Slowly, she nods, finally breaking her gaze from the mirror and turning to face Jane directly. “Yes. Let’s talk.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you miss me?

It seems that every important conversation happens on Maura’s living room couch. Images are racing through her head at light speed as they sit down, of fingers woven together, twin scars on weathered palms and soft, gentle thumbs tracing over their spiderlike reach. Maura pulls her hands close to her body in some attempt to push those thoughts from her mind.

“So,” Jane says hesitantly. “What’s with the new look? Not that I don’t love it,” she adds with that crooked smile. That smile she only uses on Maura.

Maura doesn’t smile. She stares at her hands in her lap, begging them to give her the words she can’t seem to find. They ignore her and continue to sit still and quiet. One of her fingers moves to brush over one of the fresh cuts, pressed against her pants, and she winces slightly. Hopefully Jane doesn’t notice.

“Maur?” Jane says, forcing Maura to look up to meet her gaze. “Hey, where’d you go?”

“Sorry.” Maura shakes her head. She forces herself to focus on the present moment, keeping her gaze trained on Jane’s face to anchor her. She watches the lines around Jane’s eyes and the corners of her lips as they twist and dance in various expressions of concern. “I was just… thinking. About how to say this.”

Jane offers a tiny smile. “You can tell me anything, Maura. You know that.”

“I know.” Maura notices her fingers tapping nervously on her thigh, dangerously close to those still-bleeding cuts. Resigning herself to the fact that the perfect words don’t exist, she takes a deep breath and forces herself to speak. “At my appointment today, Dr. Williams found evidence of recent repeated sexual abuse,” she says quickly, reverting to a matter-of-fact tone. Like she’s talking about a case. Like she herself is just another body on her table.

Jane’s face contorts itself into all sorts of shapes as the words leave Maura’s mouth. It’s like watching the five stages of grief in fast forward. “Maura I… I’m so sorry,” she says finally. Her voice sounds loud after the long silence.

Maura brings her hand up, reaching for a piece of hair, but catches only air. She never noticed her nervous habit until now, when she can’t perform it. Her hand slides around to the naked back of her neck. “I was thinking about how I want to burn off every piece of me that he ever touched,” she murmurs. Her voice is rough and gravelly even to her own ears. “Of course, the body replaces its cells within about seven years, but…” she trails off.

“You could get rid of your hair right then,” Jane whispers, finishing Maura’s thought. She’s always been so good at doing that, even now, even when Maura can’t understand her own thoughts.

Maura nods. “I can grow back new hair that he never touched.”

“And never will,” Jane adds, leaning forward slightly. “Remember, he’s dead, Maura. He can’t hurt you anymore.” She shakes her head. “God, I wish I could bring him back to life just so I could kill him again.”

“I think…” Maura trails off, deciding whether she should say what she planned to say. It will change things, push her in a direction she’s not sure she’s ready for. But, with this new piece of the puzzle, this new part of her past to be afraid of, she knows it’s the right choice, whether or not she wants it to be. “I think I’m ready to go to therapy.”

Jane’s eyes widen as a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Yeah? Really?”

Maura just nods. She’s quite sure if she tries to speak, nothing would come out, her throat suddenly threatening to close up completely. She’s never been good at admitting when she needs help. She’s always helped herself, solved her own problems before anyone else ever knew there was one. Every part of her body is fighting against her even as she presses on.

“What changed your mind?”

Maura shifts her gaze down, focusing in on the wrinkles in her knuckles. “I don’t remember a lot of what happened to me,” she says, barely audible even to her own ears. “That’s scary.” She berates herself for using such unspecific language, but the fact of the matter is that there is no scientific way to explain the weight of the terror she’s carrying. “I need to be able to bring those memories to the surface in a controlled, safe environment.”

Jane nods. “I think that’s a really good idea.” She moves slightly closer on the couch. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” Maura says, maybe too emphatically. She winces as Jane recoils. Bringing her hands closer to her body, she sighs and tries again. “I need to do this on my own. But maybe… you could drive me?” she asks softly, against all the voices in her mind screaming not to. _Hush_ , she tells them. _It’s just Jane. She’ll take good care of me. She always does._

“Yeah.” Jane smiles again, but it’s different this time. It’s heavier. “Yeah, I can do that. Just tell me when.”

Maura tries to put on a smile. “I’ll try to schedule it outside work hours-”

“No, schedule it as soon as you can,” Jane says firmly. “Whenever it is, I’ll make it happen. No matter what.” She clears her throat. “You know you’re more important to me than anything else right now. You do know that, right?”

Maura knows that. She hates it. But, knowing the futility of trying to argue with Jane, she just nods. “Okay. I’ll make some calls today.”

“Great.” There’s a brief silence, laying heavy on their shoulders like a wet blanket. “I’m really proud of you, Maur. I mean, you’ve always been stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. But the way you’ve survived all this… it’s incredible, really. You’re incredible.”

Maura balls her hands into tight fists as a spike of anger bolts through her. Jane has no right to say things like that, like she knows what Maura’s going through, like it’s somehow over because she’s relented to the idea of therapy, like she’s _chosen_ to survive this long. The only reason she’s made it this far is because of pure spite. Because Joe Harris doesn’t deserve to be the one who kills her. “Thank you,” she says after a moment, swallowing her anger for the sake of getting out of the conversation.

Jane clears her throat. “So, um, do you want to do dinner at the Robber? Everyone’s gonna be there.”

“No, thank you.” Maura stands up. “I’m going to take a shower. You have fun, though.” She forces a smile. “Tell the others I say hello.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Jane says, half under her breath. “They all miss you. I think it would be nice if you came out with us sometime soon.”

Maura bites back half a dozen snippy remarks and forces herself to respond calmly. “I will when I feel up to it.” With that, she heads for the stairs, leaving Jane on the couch. Up in her master bathroom, both bedroom and bathroom doors locked, she allows herself to finally relax. The muscles in her back unknit themselves one by one.

Maura looks in the mirror. She runs a hand over her freshly shaved head, marveling at the softness of the hairs. There’s still maybe a half an inch of hair left on her head, enough to cover the delicate skin on her scalp. Her roots are dark. They always have been, but it’s startling to see herself without the honey blonde locks she’s always had.

The back of her neck is itchy with tiny pieces of hair. Maura slowly removes her shirt, watching herself like a hawk as she brings a hand to her right breast to cup it. She strokes a thumb over the nipple. It tingles slightly, a whisper of pleasure, more like a memory than a sensation.

She keeps rubbing it, bringing her left hand to its twin, until both stand proud and erect between her fingers. Maura slides her right hand down now, gently slipping beneath the waistband of her pants, lower and lower, until her fingers brush her clit through bone dry panties. She chews on her bottom lip.

Her body remembers how to react, slowly growing wetter as her fingers work over her panties, but no part of this is pleasurable. After a few minutes, Maura sighs and withdraws her hand. She should have known it wouldn’t work. She turns around and pulls open the shower door, starting the water heating up.

As the water runs, Maura slips out of her pants and underwear in one move and turns back to the mirror. Her right leg draws her eye in. Three jagged red lines, each accompanied with their own trail of blood, dried and crusted onto pale skin. She runs her fingers over each cut. They’re thick, deep, and there’s no doubt they’ll be raised and angry by the next day.

Maura steps into the shower and shuts out the mirror with a slam of the tinted glass door. She covers her face with her hands. For a few minutes, she just stands there, blinded to what she’s done to her own body, listening to the shower as it pours scalding water over her shoulders. She leans into the heat. Each drop stings as it hits her body, and she relishes it.

At some point, a few tears sneak their way out of her eyes, even hotter than the water from the shower, disappearing into the rest of the water once they roll down her cheeks. She doesn’t stop them this time. She pulls her hands away from her face and uses them to slowly run her fingers through what little hair remains on her head.

And she stares down at her feet, watching every drop of water and dirt and tears swirl down the same drain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all guess how many papers i have to write in the next 5 days. SIX. i hate college


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> giving you this one a day early bc i'm leaving bright and early tomorrow morning to go on vacation!!!

July drags on, moisture hanging in the hot air and settling into any open pores it can. It watches Jane and Maura trip over one another, more like reluctant roommates than best friends, all forced smiles and stammering words when caught in the same room. Maura spends most of July on her own.

She’s trying to ease herself back into her old routine; going to the farmers’ market and the grocery store and her favorite French bakery, tending to the garden, doing her makeup in the morning and combing her fingers through what little hair she has left in disbelief. She’s not sure if she’ll ever get used to the new length. There’s nothing now to shield her face from the world’s prying eyes. Nothing for her to hide behind.

As July melts into August, Maura finds herself in the passenger seat of Jane’s car on the way to a therapist far enough out of town to ensure she’ll never have to work with them professionally. If she ever decides to go back to work, of course. She’s toyed with the idea, but hasn’t come to a decision. It’s not like she really has to. She’s got enough family money to have retired ten years ago.

“Can I ask you something?” Jane says suddenly. They’ve been driving for twenty minutes, and only now has the silence been broken. “Why did you want me to drive you today? I mean, I’m happy to do it. You just haven’t seemed to want my help lately,” she finishes softly, that sweet, low voice trailing off into almost nothing.

Maura stares at her lap. She was hoping Jane would jump at the opportunity to be helpful without asking her anything like that. Still, she decides to be honest. She’s already lost the upper hand by asking at all. “I knew that if I drove myself I would have turned around before I made it five miles.”

Jane smiles. “I probably would too, if it was me.” She glances over at Maura, face switching instantly from humorous to serious. “I’m really proud of you, though. I know it’s hard for you to say when you need help.”

“Thank you.” Nearly two weeks removed from their initial conversation about her going to therapy, Maura has been having second, third, fourth thoughts about the whole thing. But, if only out of professional respect for this doctor, she’s kept her appointment, resisted every urge to feign sickness and stay home.

Maura pokes at her scars through her pants. Her collection just keeps growing. It’s taken over most of her right thigh by now, up over her hip and halfway down to her knee. The few fresher ones react to her touch, while the older ones simply yield to her fingers. It soothes her somewhat to know that they’re there. _You’re alive_ , they whisper to her. _Alive, alive, alive_.

Jane pulls into the parking lot and turns off the car, turning to Maura with expectant eyes. “You ready?”

“I’ll never be ready,” Maura sighs. She unbuckles her seatbelt. “Let’s go.”

The waiting room is empty save for the woman at the desk, typing away on a much-too-loud keyboard. She turns to look at them as the door falls shut. “Appointment?” she says.

“Yes. My name is Maura Isles.”

The woman looks at her computer for a moment, then nods. “I’ll let Cathy know you’re here.”

Maura nods. She sits down beside Jane. Automatically, her arms cross over her chest, fingers tapping absently against her forearms.

“Nervous?” Jane murmurs. Her eyes are focused on Maura’s fingertips.

Maura offers a tight smile. “Sometimes I hate being a detective’s best friend.”

Jane’s eyes soften, and she grins. Actually grins. “We’re still best friends?”

Maura is taken aback by the question. The almost childlike trepidation in Jane’s voice, the wide eyes staring back at her, sparkling and, for once, completely unguarded. “I – of course,” Maura manages to say. It’s not even close to enough. But, despite her best efforts, her brain refuses to piece together any other reassuring words. Before she can come up with anything, they’re both interrupted by a woman’s voice.

“Maura?” the woman says, voice clear and gentle. Exactly what one would expect from a therapist.

“That’s me.” Maura turns to Jane. “I’ll… see you after. We’ll talk more.”

Jane smiles. She doesn’t seem at all fazed. In fact, it’s the opposite. She’s sitting in the chair grinning like a kid in a candy store while Maura is on the verge of losing her mind. “Good luck.”

Maura follows the woman, presumably Cathy, into her office, head spinning. She tries to push her conversation with Jane from her mind to focus on why she’s really here. She owes it to Cathy, if nothing else. Glancing around the room, she’s immediately faced with far too many options of where to sit; there’s a couch, two armchairs, and a beanbag stuffed in the corner that’s no doubt favored by Cathy’s younger clients. She hesitates.

“You can sit anywhere you like,” Cathy says. She comes to stand in front of Maura with a warm smile. “I promise, there’s no bad seat in the house.”

After a moment or two of deliberation, Maura walks to the couch and sits stiffly on the edge. It’s soft. Much softer, actually than her couch at home. Maybe she should buy a new couch. She shakes herself out of her train of thought as Cathy sits in one of the armchairs across from her, gently clearing her throat.

“How are you doing today, Maura?”

It’s meant to be an icebreaker. A simple question, requiring little to no thought to answer. Yet, Maura feels herself tense up immediately. “I’m… fine,” she says finally.

Cathy frowns. “You don’t sound so sure of that.”

“I haven’t had any major breakdowns today,” Maura explains. “That’s good for me, these days.”

“Okay.” Cathy nods. “Well, that’s something to celebrate, then.” She leans forward, resting her folded hands in her lap. “Maura, how do you want to start this off? I have a pretty good idea of your history from your paperwork – very thorough,” she adds with a smirk. “But I want you to be steering this ship.”

Maura knits her fingers tightly together, taking a moment to think about the question. She didn’t expect to be asked anything like this. She expected Cathy to pull out her DSM-5, flip to the page on post-traumatic stress, and read Maura definitions she already knows by heart. Instead, she’s handed Maura complete control. “Uh… I’m not sure. I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s okay.” Cathy smiles. “There’s no wrong answer. Now, I know you’re here to help recover from a traumatic event. Do you want to jump right into that or talk about some other things first?”

Maura’s never been one to waste time on small talk. She shakes her head. “Let’s just get right to the point. There’s no point in tiptoeing around it.”

Cathy laughs, much to Maura’s surprise. A lot of this experience is surprising so far. “Fair enough. Do you feel comfortable describing the event for me?”

“Yes.” Maura looks down at her lap. She knew this was coming. That doesn’t mean she’s looking forward to it. “Jane, my best friend, was the target of someone who wanted to ruin her life. They abducted me to hurt her. I was held captive for three weeks, malnourished, and I recently learned that I was sexually abused as well, but I don’t remember it. I came home about six weeks ago, and I’ve been experiencing symptoms of post-traumatic stress since then.”

Cathy tilts her head. There’s an odd look on her face; Maura can’t quite decipher it. “I know you’re a doctor, Maura.”

Maura frowns. “Yes.”

“I want to encourage you to think about what you’re thinking and feeling, not symptoms you’re experiencing.” Cathy smiles softly. “Identifying symptoms is my responsibility, not yours.”

Maura bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from snapping at Cathy. She’s confident in her evaluation of herself, and it’s incredibly frustrating to have her medical opinions questioned. It’s a rare occurrence in her career. “I’ve studied PTSD extensively enough to recognize the symptoms.”

Cathy doesn’t speak for a moment. She takes a breath. “What symptoms have you exhibited?”

“Nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety and panic, unprovoked rage, impulsivity,” Maura rattles off automatically. She stops herself before she says _self-injurious behavior_. She should. She knows she should. But she’s still telling herself that she’s left all that in the past, that that chapter ended in college.

“Have you noticed any triggers?”

Maura thinks back to the past several weeks and the events that led to panic. “Loud noises. Certain… details that come up.” She thinks a little more. “Being left alone for too long. Or not long enough.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Any situation I can’t control.”

Cathy nods along as Maura talks. “This struggle with control… is that recent or have you always had trouble with that?”

“It was the worst when I was younger. My parents were… distant.” Maura clears her throat. “But my mother managed to keep a tight grip on my life all the way through medical school.” She rests a hand on her thigh, gently stroking the scars with her thumb.

“How did you cope with that?”

She’s got another chance here to be honest. The doctor voice in her mind nags at her to tell the truth, to tell Cathy all about her bad habits and commit to putting in the work to stop them. But, as her thumb runs over a fresh cut, as the stinging leaps up to kiss her fingertip, she knows she’s not ready to give it up yet. “Not well,” she says finally. It’s at least part of the truth.

Obviously sensing that Maura isn’t going to elaborate, Cathy nods. “Well, I think it’s about time for us to wrap up. I like to end sessions by making a plan for the next one, and for the time in between.” She stands up, walking over to the computer across the room. “I’ve got this same time open next week. Want me to put you down?”

“I… I’ll have to ask Jane. She drives me.” Maura frowns. “Is it really necessary for me to come every week?”

Cathy smiles, but it looks somewhat strained. “The road to recovery from a traumatic event is long and bumpy, Maura. It’ll be even longer if we spread out our work over weeks.”

Maura sighs. She’s right. “I’ll take the slot next week. Jane… she’ll make it work.” There’s no doubt in her mind that Jane will. At this point, she could probably ask Jane for a meeting with every living Nobel Prize winner and know that Jane would bend over backwards to make it happen.

Cathy enters the appointment into the computer and stands up, turning back to face Maura as she opens the door to the hallway. “I’ll see you then. Maybe we can break through to some new layers.”

Maura frowns. She’s not quite sure what that’s supposed to mean, but now is clearly not the time to question it as Cathy is holding the door open for her to go. “Okay,” she says, unable to come up with anything better.

Out in the lobby, Jane stands up as Maura approaches. “Hey,” she says, still smiling wide. “How’d it go?”

“Fine, I think.”

Jane cocks her head. “You think?”

Maura shakes her head. “Can we just go home?”

“Yeah.” Jane falls into step with Maura as they walk to the door. “Of course. Whatever you need.” Her hand moves to touch the small of Maura’s back. But, just before it makes contact, she stops it, just lets it hang there, and all Maura feels is a whoosh of air and a question she doesn’t know the answer to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can y'all believe i wrote 6 entire papers and still managed to also write a whole chapter of this in just one week???? i sure as hell can't


	10. Chapter 10

In all the stress leading up to and immediately following that initial therapy session, Maura managed to completely forget her own birthday. She even accidentally scheduled her next appointment on that day. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have even remembered at all had she not woken up from her nap and come downstairs at the wrong time.

Jane and Angela are already in the kitchen, throwing together dinner and, as usual, talking about Maura. “I want to plan something really special for her,” Jane is saying. The repetitive _thunk_ of a knife on a cutting board indicates she’s chopping something as she speaks. “She deserves to have some fun.”

“What does _she_ want?”

“She hasn’t even mentioned it.” Jane sighs. “But it’s not just any birthday, it’s her _fortieth_. We can’t just let it go by.” She sets down her knife loudly enough for Maura to hear. “Besides, she hasn’t seen anyone but us since she came home. I’m sick of fielding questions from everybody; I want them to see with their own eyes that she’s fine,” she adds with an edge of irritation in her voice.

There’s a long pause. Finally, Angela speaks. “Is she fine, though?”

The question hits Maura like a punch to the stomach. They’ve managed to see right through her. She slides her arms around herself like a hug and leans closer to the wall to try to hear better.

“You know how hard she is to read,” Jane sighs. “It’s like she’s fine one minute, and the next she’s biting my head off. I just can’t say the right thing, I guess.”

“She’s just trying to make sense of everything,” Angela says. “Same as the rest of us.”

“I know.” There’s a pause, and Maura can see perfectly in her mind the face Jane is probably making. She’s struggling to push past those mental blocks that prevent her from saying what she means. Maura taught her to do that. “What if we never get her back, Ma?” she whispers finally.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. What if she’s never herself again?” Jane’s voice is starting to crack, and it’s almost too much for Maura to hear. She almost turns and goes back upstairs. But her feet remain rooted to the spot, her ears remain perked, even as she wills them otherwise. “We _just_ lost Frost - and Susie. I can’t lose her, too.”

“Come here.” A rustling of fabric tells Maura that Angela is wrapping Jane up in one of her famous hugs, and Maura feels herself being pulled toward them, wanting to be enveloped in those arms. But her feet, again, remain stuck where they are.

“I’m afraid I’ve already lost her.” Jane’s voice is muffled by Angela’s shoulder. “I want to help her so bad, but I don’t know how.”

Maura feels her heart sink inside her body. Finally, her feet obey her and she turns away, slowly and silently creeping back upstairs to her bedroom, thinking with every step, _what kind of friend am I?_ To cause that kind of heartbreak to her best friend, she must be a terrible one indeed.

She brings a hand to the base of her throat, feeling her collarbone beneath her fingers. It’s still strange having her neck so bare. Her clavicle is starting to retreat back beneath her flesh, a reminder that, slowly, her body is regaining its life.

She jumps, hand tightening slightly around her throat, at the sound of a knock at her bedroom door. “Yes?” she calls.

“Hey, it’s me,” Jane says through the door. Her voice is completely void of the sadness that filled it just a few minutes ago. “You gonna eat with us? Ma’s making ziti.”

Maura bites her tongue before she can say no. She hasn’t had dinner with both Jane and Angela since coming home. It might be nice for a change. And, more importantly, Maura knows it will make Jane feel better. “Sure,” she says after a moment. “Just give me a minute.”

Jane’s footsteps retreat and Maura sighs. She goes to her closet and pulls out a cardigan, not because she’s cold, but for Jane’s sake. It’s still hard for her to look at Maura’s wrists.

Downstairs, the smells of fresh Italian cooking fill Maura’s nose as she gets closer to the kitchen. She inhales it deeply. It reminds her of normality, of mundanity, of everything her life used to be. She rounds the corner into the kitchen to be greeted by Angela’s warm smile as she stands up from the oven.

“Hey, sweetie,” Angela says. “How are you feeling?”

Maura shrugs. “All right. It smells lovely.”

Jane comes over from the table, which Maura notices is nicely set, all the forks and napkins in their proper places. That’s especially odd for Jane. “I’m so glad you’re eating with us,” she says. “I don’t think even I could finish all she made.”

Maura laughs softly. “I’m happy to help. It’s been too long since I had a good, home-cooked meal.”

Angela pulls out the pan of ziti, and the three of them make their way to the table. Only now does Maura notice the growling of her stomach. She can’t quite remember when she ate last. Or what, for that matter. She accepts the generous helping that Angela spoons onto her plate, excited to dig in. Excited. She’s _excited_ to eat. She smiles to herself. The thought makes her even hungrier.

“Mmm,” Jane practically moans around a large mouthful of pasta. “Ma, this is amazing.”

Maura feels a light stir in her belly at the sound coming of Jane’s mouth, but she ignores it for now. The only thing she has room for in her mind is the plate in front of her, piled high with delicious-smelling food. She digs in with her fork and brings it to her mouth. Immediately, her tongue is bathed in the savory, rich flavors of garlic and tomato. She has to hold back a moan of her own.

For a few minutes, they eat in silence, all too caught up in the deliciousness of dinner to even think of using their mouths for any other purpose. Finally, though, Jane breaks the silence, fork clinking against her plate as she sets it down. “So, Maura,” she says. “Your birthday is next week.”

Maura nods. “I’d almost forgotten.”

“What do you want?” Jane grins. “It’s a big one, so don’t hold back.”

“A wig,” Maura says with a gentle laugh. She’s only half-kidding. The more she waits for her hair to grow back in, the slower it seems to be growing. It’s like it’s taunting her.

Jane tilts her head. “You don’t like your new cut anymore?”

“Well, it was never about making a fashion statement.” Maura sighs. She pokes at a few pieces of pasta with her fork. “I don’t regret doing it. But that doesn’t mean I like having peach fuzz instead of hair.”

“Huh.” Jane looks thoughtful for a moment. “A wig. Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” She takes a sip of her wine. “And what about your party? What do you want to do?”

Maura stiffens in her chair. She heard them talking earlier, yes, but she didn’t think Jane was serious about throwing her a party. She has to know that’s the last thing Maura wants right now. “I guess I haven’t thought about it,” she says slowly. “I have a therapy appointment that morning.”

“On your birthday?”

“I didn’t realize it at the time.” Maura shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’m perfectly fine with a quiet night. I don’t need to celebrate this year.”

For some reason, Jane looks incredibly disappointed with that. She seems much more invested in this birthday than Maura is, and Maura can’t figure out why. “You want a ride to therapy again?”

Maura nods. “If you can.”

“Of course I can.” Jane chews on her lower lip, suddenly looking everywhere but at Maura’s face. “How… how was your first session?” she asks hesitantly. “Did something happen that upset you?”

Maura frowns “Why do you ask that?”

“It’s been a few days and you haven’t said anything.” Jane glances over at Angela, who has been so silent Maura almost forgot she was sitting across from her. “I just wanted to make sure you’re still doing okay with the whole thing.”

Maura looks back and forth between Jane and Angela, taking in their body language. Both are wearing matching furrowed brows, clenched jaws, and Jane’s hands have knit themselves together in front of her chest. A wave of disgust for herself hits Maura over the head. She’s done this to them, the people she loves. She’s made them terrified to even ask her a simple question.

“It’s okay if you didn’t like it,” Angela jumps in, clearly trying to fill the silence. “We won’t be upset with you.” She smiles gently. “We’re proud of you, Maura. Really proud.”

Maura sighs. “It was fine. Uncomfortable, but nothing I can’t handle.” Now she’s starting to get nervous. She can’t tell if the anxiety at the table is affecting her or if she’s just scared to say what she means. It’s probably a little of both, if she’s honest with herself. “I’m just used to taking care of myself. I don’t want to let a stranger see me falter.”

Jane smiles sympathetically, reaching a hand across the table for Maura to take. After a slight hesitation, Maura rests her hand in Jane’s palm and allows her to squeeze it, causing her heart to jump. “You’ve always got us, you know. We’re not strangers.”

“I feel like I’m a stranger,” Maura whispers, finally admitting it to herself at the same time that she admits it to Jane and Angela.

“What do you mean?” Angela asks.

“I’m so… angry now.” Maura feels Jane squeeze her hand again, and she forces herself not to think about how it makes her feel. She keeps going. “I know I’m never going to be who I was. But I don’t want to be this person I’ve become.” Her eyes grow wet, and she cuts herself off before she starts crying. She raises her free hand to wipe away the tears threatening to escape.

“Maura…” Jane murmurs. “I know this… angry person isn’t who you are. She’s just your shield.” She smiles. “She’s protecting you from getting hurt again.”

Maura nods. “I know. But it’s hurting the people I love.”

“That’s what therapy is for. To help you learn to cope without being so scared and angry.” Jane clears her throat. “But it only works if you actually talk to them. Trust me, I know.”

Maura actually laughs a little at that. Leave it to Jane to know how to make her smile, even when she’s crying. And that’s when it hits her. This dinner, this openness she’s sharing with Jane and Angela, her hand in Jane’s, it’s all an echo of her life before everything happened.

And those little leaps of her heart when Jane says her name, she remembers those from before, too. There’s no mistaking them for anything but what they are. She looks over at where her and Jane’s hands are still folded together on the table, feels the sparkling deep in her body, and she nearly starts crying again.

This is proof that she’s not broken. That she still has the same love in her heart that she’s always held, the same person who would do anything for her, the same delicious food and warm hugs from the only mother who’s ever made her feel loved.

“Maur?” Jane asks, breaking Maura’s train of thought. “You okay?”

Maura smiles and squeezes Jane’s hand. “Yes. Just thinking.” She looks at Jane’s face, at the kind eyes crinkling at the edges with a smile, and feels her heart drop with a sudden realization. She’s capable of falling in love again, yes. But that means she’s also capable of getting her heart broken. And, after everything, losing Jane is absolutely not an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have 20 chapters total outlined for this fic, so assuming i stick to that, this is officially the halfway mark!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i have had a really really crazy week pour one out for me please and thank u

On the morning of her birthday, Maura rolls out of bed and stretches, forgetting for a few beautiful moments that it is, in fact, her fortieth birthday. It doesn’t last long. It hits her soon enough, and she heaves a heavy sigh. She knows all the attention will be on her today. Hopefully she can handle it.

She makes her way downstairs to find Jane waiting for her in the kitchen with a wide grin.

“Happy birthday!” Jane says, skipping any greetings. “I’m making you chocolate chip pancakes.”

Maura smiles. She’s never had much of a sweet tooth, but she hates to ruin Jane’s excitement. “That sounds great.”

“Oh, before I forget,” Jane says quickly. She reaches below the counter and pulls out a box wrapped so neatly Maura’s positive Angela must have done it. “Happy birthday,” she says with a grin.

Hesitantly, Maura accepts the gift. She unwraps it delicately, not wanting to ruin the precise folds in the wrapping. When she finally gets the box open, she can’t help but smile at what’s inside. “You actually got me a wig?” she says, pulling the piece out to examine it.

“You said you wanted one.” Jane steps closer to look at the wig with Maura. “And I brought it to a salon and had them cut it as close to your old haircut as they could.”

As Maura runs her fingers through the wig, she notices that it does, in fact, look strikingly similar to the way her hair used to look. She feels herself filling with emotion. She can’t believe that, even after the way Maura’s treated her, Jane did this for her. “Thank you,” she says around a lump in her throat.

“Want me to help you put it on?”

Maura nods. “Please.” It’s a single word, but there’s a million questions piled into it. She wonders if Jane can hear them. If she does, she doesn’t react.

They go upstairs to the master bathroom, standing in front of the big mirror together. It takes several minutes to get the wig fitted to Maura’s head and the hairline blended to her satisfaction. Once it’s on, though, Maura finds herself close to tears for the second time just this morning. She looks like her old self again. Not damaged, not broken. Just herself.

Jane smiles as she continues to comb through the back, gently working through any tangles she finds. “It looks great. Just like your old hair, huh?”

Maura can only nod. She’s afraid if she opens her mouth, the tears will start flowing. She takes a few strands of hair between her fingers, astonished at how real it feels against her skin.

“Want me to give you two a moment?” Jane asks with a smirk. She gives Maura’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

Right. Therapy. Maura watches Jane in the mirror and she turns to go, closing the door behind her. She’s not sure what to expect from her appointment today. She’s still turning over Cathy’s comment from last week in her head. _Maybe we can break through to some new layers._

As much as she’d like to keep insisting she has no idea what Cathy meant, Maura has to admit to herself that she’s right. Their first appointment was quite superficial. Of course, that was exactly what Maura intended, but she knows, on some level, that that won’t help her anymore. This isn’t something she can handle quietly all on her own.

As she starts applying her makeup, she runs through all the questions Cathy could possibly ask her today. She doesn’t want to be caught off guard. _Are you having nightmares? Do you eat regularly? Have you confided in anyone?_ Only sometimes. As much as she remembers to. She prefers to keep things to herself.

Satisfied with both her answers and her face, Maura caps her mascara and runs her fingers through her wig a few more times. She looks almost exactly as she remembers herself – though she’s still missing a few pounds, of course. She forces a smile, hoping that the familiar movement of her facial muscles will trigger the release of the proper hormones. No such luck. Those muscles are rather out of practice, after all. With a final look in the mirror, she heads back into her bedroom to finish getting dressed.

When she finally comes downstairs, Jane is on the couch, fixated on the ball game. She doesn’t seem to notice Maura enter the living room. For a moment, Maura doesn’t announce her presence. She watches Jane be captivated by the game. Jane is unguarded, walls thrown down for the first time in a long time.

Maura feels a stirring of guilt at the knowledge that she’s the reason Jane has been so on edge lately. She slowly moves into the living room to sit beside Jane on the couch. “Are we winning?”

Jane looks over at her. To Maura’s surprise, her grin remains firmly in place. “Yeah, so far. Only the third inning, though.”

“I don’t want to keep you from it.”

“It’s DVR’d.” Jane shuts off the TV and stands up, holding a hand out to Maura to pull her up to stand with her. “Ready to go?”

Maura nods. Her stomach is fluttering as her hand continues to rest in Jane’s, neither of them breaking the contact. “Yes,” she murmurs. “I’m ready.”

* * *

Cathy’s office is colder than it was last week. Maura chooses, again, to sit on the couch across from the armchairs. Cathy sits in the opposite chair. “So, Maura,” she begins, hands folded neatly in her lap. “How are you doing today?”

“I’m okay.” Maura’s confident in her answer to this question. Her morning spent with Jane was much more than she could have asked for on her birthday. The day she’s been dreading is actually turning out pretty nicely so far. “It’s actually my birthday today.”

Cathy grins. “Is that why you went with the new look?”

Maura reaches up to her hair – wig. It’s only been on a few hours, and she’s already wearing it like it’s a part of her. “It’s more like an old look,” she says. “I wasn’t happy with the way I looked shaved, so Jane got me this.”

“I see.” Cathy leans forward. Instantly, it’s clear that she’s hooked on this thread, and Maura finds herself regretting bringing it up. This isn’t something she has scripted. “Tell me about why you shaved it.”

“I see we’re not taking time for pleasantries today,” Maura says with a short laugh. Buying time, of course, to come up with a response.

“You don’t pay me to be your friend,” Cathy replies with a gentle shrug.

Maura can’t argue that fact. She pays Cathy to listen to all the things she doesn’t want to tell Jane. She supposes it’s time to actually say some of those things out loud. With a deep breath, she launches into a somewhat rushed explanation of the day she shaved her hair. She can hear the nervousness in her own voice with every syllable. By the time she’s finished, Cathy has sat back in her chair and is eyeing her strangely.

“I think that makes perfect sense,” Cathy murmurs once Maura finishes her story. “You mentioned you’re prone to impulsivity last week, I believe.”

“Yes.”

“Where else has that come up recently?”

Maura turns her gaze downward, focusing on picking at a hangnail as she formulates her response. “I quit my job,” she says slowly. “And…” she searches for the words. She knows they’re there, dangling just out of reach of her tongue. She just can’t seem to grab for them.

Cathy frowns. “Yes?”

“I’ve been… engaging in self-injurious behavior,” Maura finally manages to say, voice suddenly shaky and small. “I didn’t mention it on my intake.”

“No, I didn’t think I’d seen that.” Cathy brings her hands together in her lap. “Did it just start after the event?”

Maura tries to calm the quickening of her heartbeat. The admission is out now; there’s no taking it back. All she can do now is cooperate. Besides, this will be good for her. It’s time to stop this pattern once and for all, with the help of the woman in front of her. “When I was a teenager. Fifteen, I think.” She sighs. “I stopped in college. I thought I was done with it all. Then, when I came home from the hospital, I just… fell right back into it. Like I never stopped in the first place.”

Cathy nods slowly. Shockingly, she doesn’t seem angry or upset with Maura. “And what stimuli make you want to hurt yourself?”

Briefly, Maura feels a smile tugging at her lips. Cathy is speaking her language; the language of doctors. It’s comforting. “I’ve been experiencing panic attacks pretty often. It’s the easiest way to regain control.”

“Right, the control thing again.” Cathy sighs. “Can I walk you through some alternative ways to cope with panic?”

Maura wants to say no. She wants to stay where she’s comfortable, where she knows everything, even as it kills her. But, she reminds herself, she’s here to break those patterns, not continue them. She nods.

Cathy shows her a few techniques to bring her body out of panic, some involving physical movement, some engaging her mind. “Different things will work with different triggers,” she explains. “I want to make sure you have all the tools I can give you. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how dangerous it is to continue to self-harm.”

Maura nods again. She knows perfectly well. “I think it’s the anger that brings it on, too,” she says after a moment. “I don’t know how to contain it.”

“What makes you angry?”

“Jane, mostly.” Maura surprises herself with her readiness to admit it. “I don’t know why.” She stares at her lap. She finds it easier that way; if she can erase Cathy from the room and just talk to herself. “With everyone else I can bury it but with her, I just get this… this _rage_. I can’t control it.”

“That makes sense.”

Maura looks up. She didn’t expect to hear that. “How so?”

Cathy doesn’t speak for a moment, face scrunched up in thought. “You were abducted as a direct result of your relationship with Jane. Now, of course, that’s not her fault, but it seems very natural that there would be some resentment there.”

“Oh.” It seems so obvious now that it’s been said aloud. She feels a little stupid, honestly, for not having identified it herself. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“From what I understand,” Cathy says gently, “you two have a very deep, intense relationship. And it’s easy for that passion to turn the opposite direction in the wake of something like this.”

Maura turns back to her hangnail as the words swirl around in her head. “I don’t want to hate her. She’s been… so good to me, so patient. She doesn’t deserve for me to hate her.” She sighs. “We actually had a really nice time together this morning. I just want it to be like that all the time.”

Cathy leans forward in her chair. “Have you let her tell you the full story yet? About your kidnapping, the people behind it?”

Maura just shakes her head. Just the thought of hearing the details sends her head into a tailspin.

“Maybe that’s somewhere to start. It could help you to redirect that rage away from Jane and onto the person actually responsible.”

The hangnail finally rips off, and Maura watches as the blood slowly starts to emerge. She knows Cathy is right, but she’s not sure yet if she’s ready to hear that story. She knows there was a woman involved; she remembers Jane mentioning that way back in the hospital. She still has no idea how this woman and Joe Harris were connected. “Maybe it’s time I heard it anyway,” she says softly. “For my own sake.”

Cathy smiles. “I think that might be really good for you.”

That’s where they wrap up. Cathy sends Maura out into the lobby with a band-aid for her bleeding finger, out to where Jane is waiting with that wide, goofy grin, completely unaware that Maura just spent the better part of an hour talking about hating her. “All good?” Jane asks as Maura gets closer.

Maura nods. She has no idea what to say to Jane right now. She’s still taking in everything from the session. The ride home is nearly silent, save for Jane humming softly along to the music coming from the radio.

Maura’s mind, on the other hand, is unbearably loud. A million thoughts all scream for attention, none of them sticking long enough for her to truly think them, always cycling in and out of the forefront of her mind. She wants nothing more than to lie in bed, alone, and sort through them one by one.

Jane’s smile seems even wider than before by the time they park. “Come on,” she says impatiently, waiting for Maura to unbuckle her seatbelt and collect her things.

“I know you want to get back to your ballgame,” Maura sighs. “I’m getting there.” She follows Jane into the house, expecting nothing more than an empty living room exactly the way they left it.

Instead, she’s met with a crowd of people leaping out from behind various pieces of furniture, all wearing matching pointed hats. “Surprise!” they all yell in unison.

And Maura falls straight to the floor.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((psst)) ((hey)) ((i know i said i wasn't gonna do chapter songs)) ((but)) (("reasons not to die" by ryn weaver)) ((just /happens/ to fit this chapter dead on)) ((you didn't hear it from me))

Immediately, Maura feels hands on her. Multiple pairs of hands. Fingers probing her skin all over, trying to pull her up from the floor against her resistance. She tries to block it all out. Her eyes squeeze shut as she tries to will her legs to work, to stand up and get away from all the prying eyes and probing hands, but they refuse to listen. It’s like they’re not even part of her body anymore.

Finally, a clear, low voice cuts through the commotion. “Guys, give her space,” Jane says, swatting people away from Maura. “Maur, you okay?”

The air feels clear again with the crowd of people away from her. Feeling starts to return to Maura’s legs, and she manages to sit up. “No,” she hisses. She doesn’t even bother trying to contain her rage. This time, she’s right to be mad. “No, I’m not okay.” She pushes up from the floor onto shaky legs, ignoring the rush of dizziness, and starts making her way toward the stairs. She needs to get away. She’s been embarrassed enough already.

Of course, Jane can’t seem to understand that. She follows Maura up the stairs, finally catching her just outside the bedroom door. “Maura.” She grabs Maura’s wrist to stop her in her tracks.

Maura whirls around. “Really, Jane? A _surprise_ party?” she snaps. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Slowly, the realization spreads over Jane’s face. “Shit. I didn’t think-”

“No, you didn’t think.” Maura shakes her head. “You never do.”

Jane looks like she’s been slapped. Maura has to admit to herself that may have been a bit harsh, but it’s too late now to take it back. “How can you expect me to know what’s gonna set you off if you never talk to me?” she says quietly. “I can’t read your mind.”

“I told you I didn’t want a party.”

“Which is why I had to make it a surprise.” Jane gestures back toward the staircase. “All those people down there have been worried sick about you for two months. You haven’t seen them or talked to them since you came home and damn it, Maura, they deserve to know you’re still fucking _alive_ in that body.”

Maura physically recoils from Jane’s words. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say to that.

Jane sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “Look, the party’s happening. I guess you can stay up here if you want, but I think you owe it to your friends to at least say hi.” She turns to go, but stops at the edge of the top stair. Her fists are tightly balled when she turns around. “We all went through some fucked up shit, Maura. It’s not all about you.” And then she’s gone.

Maura stands alone in front of her bedroom door. Her right hand is extended just slightly in front of her, reaching out for Jane, like it hasn’t yet gotten the message that Jane already left. Maura draws it close to her body. She repeats Jane’s words in her head. _It’s not all about you_.

She’s right. Two months, and Maura never gave a thought to what everyone else endured at the hands of Joe Harris and his accomplice. She turns back to her bedroom door. She should go downstairs and join the party. She will, she decides. She just needs a moment alone first.

Maura sits down on her bed with a heavy sigh and drops her head into her hands. The panic is starting to build again, and that familiar urge creeps into her brain, her skin tingling with anticipation. She reaches over to her nightstand for the letter opener she brought up from her home office.

Her hands, despite their shakiness, work on autopilot to pull her pants down, following the routine she’s become so used to. Only when she looks down at her leg does the fog clear. Her hand tightens around the letter opener. She doesn’t want to do this. Still, the panic continues to rise in her.

She searches her brain for the coping mechanisms Cathy taught her earlier that day. “Five things I can see,” Maura says out loud. Her voice sounds breathy and it shakes, but she forces herself to keep talking. “The bookshelf. The vanity mirror. The window. The lamp. The closet door.”

She works her way through four things she can hear, three things she can touch, and two things she can smell. By the time she gets to one thing she can taste, her breathing has slowed considerably. “One thing I can taste,” she whispers. “Residue from the pancakes I ate this morning.” The pancakes Jane made for her. For her birthday.

Maura’s hiding from her own birthday party. She exhales slowly. She knows Jane is right, that she owes it to everyone downstairs to join the party. And she really has missed everyone. The thought of letting anyone see her like this was just too much to handle. It still is, honestly.

But she knows it’s time. She can’t let her fear of being vulnerable keep her from her closest friends and family. She stands up from the bed and, before she can talk herself back out of it, walks quickly out the door and straight down the stairs. The sounds of the party grow louder with every step.

To Maura’s surprise, no one comes over to her right away. It’s almost like they didn’t even notice her come downstairs. She frowns. She didn’t want to be bombarded, but she can’t pretend it doesn’t sting a little bit that no one seems excited to see her. She makes her way into the kitchen to peruse the snacks, trying to ignore the hurt.

Korsak is standing by the snack counter when Maura gets to the kitchen. He offers her a wide grin. “She lives!” he greets her.

Maura smiles back at him. She hopes it doesn’t look as forced as it feels. “She does.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Okay, for the most part.” Maura shrugs. “Did Jane choose the food?”

Korsak looks down at the array of food on the counter. “Yeah. But it’s not Jane food, that’s for sure.” He chuckles, like he has some inside joke with himself. “Consider yourself lucky that you didn’t have to listen to her go crazy trying to pick stuff you like.”

Maura looks down and, sure enough, the counter is filled with delicious looking food – from gorgeously arranged plates of cheeses to perfectly cooked shrimp to towers of pastries. “Everything looks amazing,” she murmurs. She can imagine a frenzied Jane putting all this together in just a few days. It’s quite impressive, honestly.

“You know,” Korsak says, suddenly softer. “It’s not the same at work without the two of you bickering back and forth. We actually get some work done now.” He laughs. “But it’s not nearly as fun.”

Maura brings a hand to her lips. She doesn’t know what to say. She can’t say she hasn’t thought about going back to work, but only in passing. She tries to manage a smile.

Korsak doesn’t seem fazed by her response. “It’s good to see you on your feet, Maura.” He smiles warmly. He excuses himself to go say hello to Nina as she’s walking in, leaving Maura alone.

She can’t stop the smile from coming to her face. She’s never heard Korsak call her by her first name. She’s always been “Dr. Isles” to the other detectives, always just Jane’s tag-along. Now she’s Maura. Their friend. It’s enough to make her seriously reconsider her choice to resign. Maybe it’s enough to change her mind. She can’t tell yet.

Maura takes a few pieces of cheese and their paired crackers and moves into the living room. She perches herself on the couch, feeling her skin crawl slightly at the knowledge that she’s quite literally at the center of the party in this spot. She tries to ignore it.

“Hey, Maura,” a familiar voice says above her.

Maura looks up to see Tommy standing in front of her, the same crooked smile on his face as always, a glass of champagne in his outstretched hand. She returns the smile. “Hi.”

“You look like you need a drink.”

She takes the drink with a laugh. “I do, thank you.”

Tommy gestures to the open spot beside her. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.”

As he sits down, Maura doesn’t feel her walls jump up the way they have been all day. For once, she’s surprised to find, she’s glad to talk to him. “I’m not gonna ask how you are,” he says. “I bet you’ve answered that a hundred times today.”

Maura smiles wryly. “At least.” She shakes her head. “I know everyone is worried about me. But I just don’t want to rehash the past anymore, you know?”

Tommy nods. “Yeah, I do. Let’s not talk about the past, then.” He thinks for a moment. “You read anything good lately?”

“No,” Maura sighs. “I haven’t been able to focus much on reading.”

“Me either. But then, I never could,” Tommy laughs. “I saw a cool thing on the Discovery channel the other day, though. It’s always on at home – TJ loves it.”

Maura smiles. She loves hearing about TJ, of course, but seeing the way Tommy lights up when he talks about his son is one of the most beautiful things in the world. “I’m so glad you’re raising a child who loves to learn,” she says. “What was it that caught your interest?”

“It was the Savannah special. They were talking about Wildebeest migrations. They have to cross this river every year to get to the food, right? But the river is huge and filled with crocodiles and stuff, and some of them don’t make it.” Tommy smiles. “But they all have to try.”

“Wow.” Maura nods slowly. “I didn’t know that.”

Tommy’s grin gets even wider. “What?” he exclaims. “ _I_ taught _you_ something? That’s gotta be a first.”

“You’ve taught me a lot, Tommy,” Maura murmurs.

There’s a pause. “You know,” Tommy says eventually. “I’ve been in some really dark places before.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Tommy looks over to where Jane is standing with Frankie, clearly watching them out of the corner of her eye. “Jane doesn’t even know how bad it got.” He lets out a breath. “And she won’t, okay?”

Maura just nods.

“Look, everyone here, they love you and they mean well. But they just don’t get it, you know?” Tommy leans closer to Maura. “If you wanna talk to someone who understands, you know where to find me, okay?”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Maura whispers. She smiles at him as he gets up to go. She’s relieved at the way the conversation went. It’s the first time since coming home that she’s truly felt understood, felt seen. It feels good to know she has someone in her life who really knows what she’s feeling.

She barely has time, however, to revel in the feeling before Jane is suddenly sitting beside her. She nearly jumps out of her seat. “You scared me,” she says, trying to catch her breath.

“He wasn’t trying anything, was he?”

Maura frowns. “What? No.”

Jane arches an eyebrow. “You sure I don’t need to go have a talk with him?”

“We were talking about Wildebeests, Jane.”

“Wildebeests?” Jane shakes her head. “Good. My idiot brothers have spent too much time hitting on you.”

Maura smirks. “Can you blame them?”

This time, both eyebrows fly straight up as though reaching for Jane’s hairline. “Maura, was that a joke?”

“Huh.” Maura tilts her head. “I think it was.”

Jane smiles warmly. “I haven’t heard you crack a joke in three months,” she says softly. “It’s good to see you smile again.”

Maura doesn’t say that all she wants is for Jane to kiss the smile right off her face. She just nods and says, “It’s good to smile again.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 1am but it's technically friday so fuck it here u go
> 
> had to tweak a few things in canon to fit the altered timeline also the way the whole thing happened in canon was stupid and i will die on that hill

The day after Maura’s birthday gives them bright sunshine and comfortable warmth, and Maura decides to spend some time out in the yard. She’s still barely been outside since coming home, but the day is too beautiful to pass up. With a generous coat of sunscreen on still-pale skin and wig firmly in place under a large sun hat, she heads outside with a book, determined to focus on reading it.

Of course, it doesn’t work. Maura can barely make it through a page without her mind drifting off to some other place. Almost always, that place includes either Jane or Joe Harris. It’s jarring, to say the least, bouncing between the person she loves and the person who hurt her so badly, but back and forth she goes until she feels like she’s going to lose her mind.

It’s a relief when she hears the sliding glass door open behind her. “Hey,” Jane says, coming to sit beside Maura on the ground. “Ma told me you were out here. Thought you might like some company.”

Maura smiles. For once, she actually does. “Thanks,” she says softly.

“It’s gorgeous out here.”

“It is.” Maura glances around the yard. “It’s been a while since I spent time out in the sun.”

Jane’s smile tenses up just slightly. Not nearly as much as it used to when Maura alluded to the past few months, but still enough to be noticeable. She doesn’t say anything.

Maura clears her throat, shifting her body to face Jane directly. “I’m sorry I got angry at you yesterday.”

“Huh?” Jane says with a slight frown. “Oh, you mean at the party? It’s fine.”

Maura shakes her head. “No, it isn’t.” She sighs. “You were right. I’ve been so focused on my own pain that I didn’t even think about what anyone else went through.”

Jane shrugs. “We all get caught up in our own shit.”

“It doesn’t give me the right to yell at you like that.”

“Maura, I’m always gonna love you, no matter how bitchy you act,” Jane says firmly. “But I stand by what I said. We all went through hell.”

Maura nods, silently debating with herself about whether now is the right time to open up that discussion. She doesn’t know if she’s ready to hear it. But, she realizes, she’ll probably never be ready to hear it. That doesn’t mean she can avoid it. “What happened?” she murmurs after a long pause.

“Huh?”

“What happened while I was gone?”

“Oh.” Jane’s gaze diverts to her hands. They immediately ball themselves into tight fists in her lap. “You want to hear the whole story?”

Maura reaches over to cover one of Jane’s hands with her own, and, in the way only they can, the gesture says so much more than she ever could with words. “It’s time I knew what happened. I need to be able to put all the pieces together.”

Jane nods. “Okay.” She draws one knee close to her chest, wrapping a hand around the back of her exposed thigh, unfazed by the dirt and grass stuck to her leg. She doesn’t seem to notice Maura looking absolutely anywhere but at that hand. “Um, do you remember the case that set the whole thing off? Lianne Sampson?”

“Vaguely.”

“We found a watch in her stomach set to 5:26. It was my watch – the one Ma gave me when I graduated police academy.” Jane sets her jaw. “I thought they were going after Ma, so I came straight here, but she was fine. And while I was distracted, they faked a call for a case and got you to show up to a fake crime scene in some sketchy alley.”

Maura nods. “I remember that part. That’s when he grabbed me.” A shiver runs up her spine at the memory. She can still feel the chemical-soaked cloth pressed against her face, nearly chokes on the imagined fumes. She rests a hand on the ground to remind herself where she is. She’s not in that alley. She’s in her own yard, on the grassy ground, sitting across from the person she loves most in the world. She’s safe.

“You okay?” Jane asks.

“Yes,” Maura says breathily. “Keep going.”

Jane narrows her eyes as though she doesn’t quite believe her, but she sighs and continues the story. “I called you to tell you that Ma was fine, but you didn’t answer. And I tried again, I think I called you about six times, and it was pretty obvious something was wrong. By the time we figured it out, you were long gone.”

Maura tries to remember what happened after she was taken from the alley, but she has no idea how long she was unconscious. She remembers waking up in a room with no windows, handcuffed to a pipe on the wall.

“It took us forever to connect it all to Joe Harris,” Jane continues. “We just hit dead end after dead end, and every day that went by I was so scared you were dead.” Her voice breaks. Her eyes start sparkling with tears, tears that Maura wants to brush away, but doesn’t. “I was working sixteen-hour days, basically sleeping at work, I only ate because Ma brought me sandwiches every day… I just kept repeating what Korsak told me when you first went missing – she’s strong, she’s smart, she’s capable. She’s gonna be okay.”

“Jane,” Maura whispers, reaching out again to touch her hand. “We can stop; we don’t have to do this now.”

Jane shakes her head. “It’s as important for me to say it as it is for you to hear it.”

“Okay.” Maura squeezes Jane’s hand before pulling hers back to her own body.

“We were looking at everyone that was in prison at the same time as Lianne Sampson, and we just kept coming up blank. It took three weeks for us to get a warrant to look at the prison staff. We found balloons in Joe Harris’ desk – the same ones that Lianne swallowed. It was pretty easy from there to track his movements to the building you were in.” Jane’s voice is growing thick and raspy. She pauses to collect herself.

“When we got there-” Jane breaks off into a barely-masked sob. She covers her mouth with a hand. “When we got there, you looked like you were dead. You didn’t recognize us. And you were… you were a skeleton, and your wrists were just completely shredded.” She looks down at Maura’s wrists now. “The bastard put razors in the handcuffs so they’d cut you if you fought them.”

Maura rubs at the scar on her left wrist. It’s still pink and tender, raised above her skin. It probably will be for a long time. She stays silent as Jane continues.

“While you were in the hospital, we connected Joe Harris and Lianne Sampson to Alice Sands.” Jane spits the name with such venom, Maura finds herself physically recoiling. “We were in police academy together. She was always second place, right behind me. Apparently, she didn’t like that,” Jane says with a mirthless laugh. “She blamed me for her life turning out shitty. And she hurt everyone I love because of it.

“Korsak and Kiki eloped the day after we found you. Alice showed up and shot up the party.” She taps her fingers on the back of the opposite hand. “Most of them missed. Nina took a hit to the collarbone, but that’s it.” The tapping increases in speed. “Frankie and I ran after her, cornered her around back of the bar. She said she was gonna make me shoot her, make me look like a dirty cop for killing a civilian. I said I wasn’t going to shoot her.

“And then she aimed her gun at Frankie.” Jane’s eyes squeeze shut. “I didn’t even hesitate. Shot her four times, right in the chest.” She shakes her head and stares down at her lap, exhaling a shaky breath. “I don’t know why, but she got in my head. I spent a long time absolutely convinced that I really did kill a civilian in cold blood.”

Maura leans forward slightly. She’s never seen Jane crumble like this. Even when Hoyt came after her time and time again, Jane never broke down so completely. “You were protecting Frankie. You were protecting all of us, really.”

Jane nods. She doesn’t look at Maura. “I know. But she really rattled me. I never regretted it, though. She hurt everyone I love – especially you – because of some stupid, petty rivalry from twenty years ago.” She looks up, straight into Maura’s eyes, face suddenly cold and steely. “She deserved to die.”

\--

By the time the sun starts to sink into a cotton candy sky, Maura’s still turning everything over and over in her head. It’s impossible to think trapped in the house with Jane so near. So, after announcing to whoever can hear that she’s going for a walk, she finds herself a few blocks down the road all by herself, finally surrounded by a peaceful quiet, the only sound being the birds singing good night.

Maura stops to lean against a tree and look all around her. The sun bathes the clouds and sky in pink and tangerine, the light dappling the leaves and dancing in beams across the pavement, gently guiding the town to sleep. She rests her head against the solid trunk of the tree, and the tree cradles it, takes upon itself the thoughts weighing heavy on her mind, promises to hold onto them until she asks for them back.

It makes her feel a hundred pounds lighter. Maura slowly slides down until she’s sitting on the ground with her back to the tree trunk. There’s probably a thousand pieces of bark tangled in her hair, but she doesn’t mind. With the tree’s help, she’s finally got a clear enough head to think through everything.

Jane’s story has given Maura more pieces to her puzzle. They fall neatly into place, into those empty spaces where she was missing information. Only a few blanks remain unfilled. She still can’t access any memories of Joe Harris’ hands on her, still doesn’t know the abuse she endured. She wonders, then, if she’ll ever remember. She wonders if she even wants to.

Maybe it’s okay that those memories stay buried. Recovering them would only make her upset. Maybe finishing the puzzle isn't worth the price of finding the pieces. She can focus, then, on more pleasant things.

Like Jane. Maura feels her heart leap in that familiar way as her thoughts shift. She can’t believe that, after everything they’ve been through, her feelings for Jane have remained just the same, if not even stronger. And then there’s that scene that keeps surfacing in her mind. She can’t tell if it’s a memory or just something she dreamed, and she can’t afford to be wrong about it.

She thinks she remembers a kiss. Her lips tingle with the thought, and she reaches up to touch them gently with her fingertips. She can’t be sure – the image is so clouded – but yes, she thinks there was a kiss. She wants so badly to know if it was real, if Jane’s lips really felt like that, or if it’s just her mind expressing her desires. She hates not knowing. She’s not good at not knowing.

Of course, there’s only one way to know, and that way is absolutely out of the question. There’s no telling what might happen if Maura asks Jane about it. She could lose her forever. And, truthfully, Maura would rather try to balance in the unknown for the rest of her life than lose Jane.

She shakes her head to clear those thoughts. She can’t sit here any longer spiraling through each and every terrifying idea her mind can come up with, entertaining every fucked up scenario until her head explodes. She needs to talk to somebody. Somebody that understands. She pulls out her phone and sends off a text, quickly, before she can chicken out.

_Lunch tomorrow?_


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit my heart is so full from all the love on the last chapter!!! i'm stuck at home for a while as my classes have all shifted to online and i'm one of the "at risk" folks, so i'm planning to finish this fic within the next week or so!!! i'm so glad you all are loving it and i can't wait for you to read what's coming in the next few chapters :)

They end up meeting at a restaurant half an hour out of the city. Maura’s still not ready to run into anyone she knows. Her stomach is churning as she gets ready, combing through what she’s come to think of as her hair – she barely registers it as a wig anymore, just another part of her morning routine.

She keeps glancing in the mirror as she drives to the place they agreed upon. A hair out of place, a jagged stroke in her makeup, any tiny flaw could send her spiraling. Thankfully, her precision with a scalpel carries over into her beauty routine. She’s searching for any excuse to turn around even as she parks the car outside the restaurant. Still, she forces herself to walk inside, straight to the table the server leads her to. “Hi,” she says as she sits down. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course.” Tommy grins. “It sounded important.”

They order their drinks, both of them foregoing any alcohol and agreeing to share a pitcher of the specialty raspberry lemonade. “Thank you, Leah,” Maura says, noticing their server’s nametag. She likes calling people by their names. Several studies have proven that it makes people feel important and boosts self-esteem. She likes doing it even more now after those few weeks in the dark, unable to remember her own.

“So,” Tommy says after Leah leaves, “tell me what’s up.”

Maura sighs. This is the part she was dreading. The idea of talking to someone about her feelings sounds so inviting until it comes time to actually do it. Then she instantly clams up. Every time. _Not this time_ , she says firmly in her mind, reminding herself that she promised to break those patterns. “I was doing a lot of thinking last night.”

Tommy laughs. “Aren’t you always?”

Immediately, Maura feels herself relax. She’s reminded of how easygoing Tommy is, how non-judgmental. She laughs softly. “This wasn’t the good kind of thinking.” She averts her eyes to stare at the table. “Jane told me what happened while I was gone.”

“You make it sound like you were on vacation.” All the mirth has left Tommy’s voice. In fact, if she’s not mistaken, it sounds more like a mix of anger and fear.

Maura nods. “It’s easier that way,” she murmurs. “There’s still a lot I don’t remember from that time. Things that I know factually happened, but I can’t pull a single memory of them.” She doesn’t tell Tommy the content of the missing memories. That information will stay between her and Jane as long as she can control it. “I kept trying to force myself to remember and then I realized – I don’t _want_ to.”

Tommy nods thoughtfully. “How does that work?” he asks. “The whole forgetting thing. I’ve heard about it on _Dateline_ and stuff, but that’s it.”

“It’s a way for the brain to protect someone from a traumatic event.” Maura pauses as Leah comes back with their drinks and takes their lunch orders. Once she’s gone, Maura continues her explanation. “The event is so distressing that the brain pushes the memories of the event into the subconscious – but, in the process, it also makes all memories harder to access.”

“What do you mean?”

Maura hesitates. She’s spent too long covering up her emotions with science, but her entire body is protesting as she opens her mouth. “When the detectives found me, I didn’t recognize them. Even Jane.” She shakes her head. “I forgot my own name.”

Tommy’s brow furrows into what looks like concern. “Holy shit,” he whispers.

Maura laughs wryly. “Agreed.”

“I mean, I’ve been to some pretty bad places, but I never forgot my name.”

“You mentioned that before,” Maura says. “At the party.”

Tommy nods as he picks up his drink. “Yeah.” He pauses for a moment to take a sip. “Shit, that’s good.”

Maura grins. She takes a sip from her own, nodding in agreement. It really is delicious. Before she can respond, she’s interrupted by Leah bringing their dishes and setting them down. Once she’s gone again, Maura leans forward slightly in her chair. “What happened to you, Tommy?”

Tommy is quiet for a few moments. Briefly, Maura wonders if she shouldn’t have asked at all. He sighs. “Promise you won’t tell any of my family.”

“I promise.” Maura’s become very practiced at lying and hiding information these past few months. She knows it won’t be a problem.

“You know I was in prison. I did three years.”

Maura nods. “I remember.”

Tommy absently pokes at his food as he speaks. “The first year was rough. Jane and Frankie quit talking to me – they were cops, you know? They couldn’t have a criminal for a brother.” He takes a bite and continues to talk, even with his mouth full. Maura doesn’t have the heart to criticize it. “Ma and Pop wrote me and came to visit sometimes, but every time they left, Ma would cry. So, they stopped coming after a while.”

Maura’s chest feels heavier with every word. She had no idea how bad it was for Tommy during that time, and it breaks her heart to hear.

“So, then I was all alone in there and I had two years left before I could go home. Not to mention I couldn’t get a drink in there, so I was sobering up against my will.” He sets his fork down beside his plate. It seems he shares Maura’s lost appetite. “I tried to hang myself from the bunk bed,” he says too quickly, like he’s just trying to get the words off of his tongue.

Maura’s hand flies up to her mouth. “Oh my god,” she murmurs. “How does your family not know about this?”

Tommy shrugs. “I put my roommate down as my emergency contact. He didn’t show up, the doctors asked if I wanted them to call anyone else, and I told them no.” He laughs shortly. “I was fine. The rope broke as soon as I got off the chair. All I got was a couple cuts and bruises from hitting the bed on the way down.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“By then I hadn’t talked to my parents in three months, my brother and sister in over a year. I figured they would just be disappointed it didn’t work.”

Maura slides her hand across the table to grip Tommy’s with a gentle squeeze. “You know that’s not true, Tommy.”

Tommy squeezes her hand back. “Yeah, I do now. That’s why I don’t want them to know I ever did something so stupid.”

“I understand.” Maura pulls her hand back to her lap. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. I won’t say a word.”

“Thanks, Maura.”

Neither of them speaks for a few moments. Maura looks down at her food, her appetite suddenly vanished after hearing Tommy’s story. A glance up confirms that Tommy is feeling the same. “Let’s get it to-go,” she suggests.

Tommy’s face immediately changes from a worried frown to a wide smile. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Maura calls Leah back over and asks for to-go boxes and the bill, which Leah promptly brings. Maura frowns as she picks up her receipt. There’s something scrawled on the back. She laughs softly as she reads it, realizing it’s Leah’s phone number, accompanied by a smiley face and a note asking Maura to call her.

“Shit,” Tommy says, leaning over to read it. “She gave you her number?”

“She did.”

“Wow.” Tommy shakes his head.

“What?”

Tommy tilts his head. “A _woman_ just gave you her number.”

“You act like that’s so out of the ordinary,” Maura says absently as she fills out the tip section of the bill.

“It is.”

“Hardly.” Maura shrugs. “Lots of people give me their phone numbers when I go out.” She pauses, realizing that may have sounded a bit conceited, but it’s too late now. the words are out of her mouth.

Tommy laughs. “Yeah, but aren’t they supposed to have some sort of ‘gaydar’ or something?”

“That’s highly contested.” Maura sets the pen down. “Some theories suggest that lesbians in particular pick up on pheromones from one another, but there’s never been a conclusive study to prove that.”

“Well, whatever it is, her gaydar is seriously malfunctioning.”

Maura folds up the receipt and tucks it into her purse. “Actually, it appears to be working just fine.” She stands up, expecting Tommy to follow. But, to her surprise, he remains seated, just staring up at her with wide eyes. She frowns. “What?”

Tommy jumps up from the table. “You’re gay?”

“Oh.” Maura shrugs. “Not exactly. Bisexual. Precisely, 2.3 on the Kinsey scale.”

“The who?”

Maura shakes her head. “Never mind. You really didn’t know?”

Tommy shakes his head. “Wait. Is that why my sister got so mad and you and me were hanging out? Are you guys…?”

Maura’s heart lurches. “No,” she says with a laugh that sounds forced even to her own ears. “Why – why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, you guys are just so… close.”

“Yes, well…” Maura trails off. She doesn’t even know what she intended to say, much less what she actually should say.

“Wait.” Tommy grins broadly. “You like my sister.”

Maura sighs. There’s no point in trying to deny it. Tommy always sees right through her. “Okay, yes, I do have… some feelings for Jane. But you can’t tell her,” she adds quickly, remembering how the Rizzoli siblings gossip. “Things are too complicated right now for that.”

“No problem,” Tommy says with a shrug. “Only fair. You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours.”

“Deal.”


	15. Chapter 15

A month into therapy, Maura still hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea of letting down her guard and allowing a stranger to help her. She squirms in her seat, fingers never still, twisting themselves around one another as she tries to push past her mental blocks and allow Cathy to see her. “I think I’m doing better.”

Cathy smiles. “That’s excellent. And the self-harm?”

“Nothing since before the party.” Maura feels a warmth in her chest as she says it. She can’t help but be proud of herself for refusing to give into her urges for over two weeks now. “The calming techniques you taught me have been very helpful.”

“I’m glad.” Cathy pauses for a moment, seemingly searching Maura’s face for something. “I sense there’s something on your mind, though.”

Maura tenses. She didn’t realize she was so easy to read. She always used to pride herself on being able to turn off her emotions whenever she needed to, to put on a smile despite the hellfire in her mind. “A few things,” she says slowly. She doesn’t know how much she wants to say. “I’ve been thinking about going back to work.”

“Really? You seemed pretty sure about your decision to resign.”

“I was.” Maura looks down at her restless fingers. “I feel a little purposeless lately. And I really did – _do_ – love my job.”

Cathy nods. “So why did you resign?”

Maura forces herself back to that day in the hospital, back into the chaos that was her mind that day. Nothing makes sense, nothing connects. “I was angry. I think I saw my job as a reason why those things happened to me.” She shakes her head to bring her back to the present moment. It’s like a breath of fresh air. “But I’m concerned about going back into potentially triggering situations. Not to mention the fact that everyone will be clamoring around me if I go back.”

“Have you been back to the office at all since the event?”

“No. Jane has asked me to come for lunch a few times, but I haven’t gone.”

“Why not?” Cathy asks. “That sounds like it would be a logical first step.”

Maura nods. “I guess I just don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up.”

“I should remind you,” Cathy says slowly, almost cautiously, “that the thoughts and feelings of your coworkers aren’t your responsibility to manage. You don’t need to compromise what you want to make them comfortable.”

The words sink into Maura’s stomach like a rock. She doesn’t know how to be any other way. All her life, she’s put herself in second place, always determined to make everyone else happy no matter the cost. If she doesn’t, no one ever sticks around for long. When she explains this to Cathy, she’s met with a gentle smile and a shake of the head.

“From what you’ve told me about your friends, I highly doubt they’re going to abandon you for taking care of your own needs. I mean, look at the way Jane has worked so hard to accommodate you.”

Immediately, Maura feels herself tense at the mention of Jane’s name. She realizes too late that her reaction is entirely too conspicuous, feels Cathy’s eyes zeroing in on her with laser focus.

“I think I hit on something there, didn’t I?”

Maura chews on her bottom lip. She doesn’t know how much longer she can pretend that these feelings for Jane aren’t a big deal. Maybe she should just tell Cathy. After all, it’s not as though her therapist can tell anyone else about it. Maybe she could even help Maura make sense of it all. “Things are different lately with Jane,” she says finally.

Cathy arches an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I recently realized some…” Maura trails off, unsure what words to use. “feelings that I have for her.”

“Oh.” Cathy leans back in her chair, crossing her left leg over her right. Clearly, that wasn’t what she expected to hear. She seems to fish for words for a few moments. “Maura, you’re in a very vulnerable position emotionally.” Her tone has shifted; she’s speaking to Maura like an adult would to a small child, not to someone who is her professional equal. “It’s not uncommon to feel very close to the people that care for us in times like this, and sometimes we can mistake those feelings for romance.”

Maura narrows her eyes. She doesn’t care to be condescended to, especially not about the only thing in her life she’s completely sure of. “These feelings aren’t new.” She does her best to sound neutral, but there’s a slight edge to her voice. “I’ve had them as long as I’ve known her.”

Cathy frowns. “You said you’d recently realized them.”

“They recently came back,” Maura clarifies. “I thought they’d gone away after everything happened. I honestly thought I wasn’t capable of feeling love anymore,” she adds, more softly than before. “And then, suddenly, I was.”

“And you said this is causing problems with you and Jane?”

Maura thinks to Jane, waiting patiently as always in the lobby, completely oblivious to any of what she’s talking about now. She shakes her head. “Not exactly. She doesn’t know – I think.” She taps her fingers on her knee. “But _I_ know. I’m so nervous to be around her now. It’s a little ridiculous, honestly.”

Cathy nods slowly. “And what do you think would happen if she did know?”

The thought sends Maura’s heart into an instant whirlwind. “I have no idea.” That veiled memory flashes into her mind again, the one that always comes up when she doesn’t need it to, of fingers weaving together so closely they forget which hand they belong to, of lips finding each other like magnets. Every time she sees it, it feels more real. “I don’t know if she already does.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have this… memory. It doesn’t feel like a normal memory, though, so I’m not sure if it really happened.” It sounds so absurd when she says it out loud.

“What makes it feel different?”

“It’s shiny,” Maura shakes her head at her own imprecise language, but it’s too late to take it back. She continues, “like how dreams are. All the colors are a little too bright, and there’s a glare, almost like it’s happening in a mirror with a light on it.”

Cathy closes her eyes for a moment, almost like she’s trying to visualize it. “What happens in this memory?”

Maura stares straight down at her lap, feeling herself growing more embarrassed with every second she spends trying to explain the memory. A not insignificant part of her regrets bringing it up in the first place. “I don’t remember any of what was said, but I think Jane and I talked for a while. I remember she was holding my hand, and-” she stops abruptly.

“And what?” Cathy asks after a moment.

“I think we kissed,” Maura murmurs. It all sounds absolutely ridiculous now that it’s out of her mouth, and she wants so badly to change the subject and get Cathy’s burning eyes off of her.

“Have you asked her about it?”

Maura’s head snaps up to look Cathy in the face. “Are you kidding me?” She’s met with silence. Apparently, Cathy isn’t kidding. “No, I haven’t. It was probably just a dream. It could ruin things between us if I say anything now.”

Cathy offers a small smile. “I know your memories are pretty scrambled in general right now,” she begins, as though it isn’t obvious, “but that sounds a little too detailed to be just a dream. We rarely remember our dreams like that for more than a few hours after waking up.”

Even Maura’s anxiety has to bow in the face of scientific fact. “That’s true,” she mutters.

“Now, I don’t know Jane. But, from what you’ve told me, I don’t feel that she’s the type to abandon a relationship like this because of a crush, even if she doesn’t reciprocate.” Cathy raises her eyebrows. “Do you?”

Maura’s chest tightens at the question. Knowing Jane as well as she does, she knows the answer is no. But there’s always that nagging feeling that Maura’s the exception; that Jane – and everyone else, for that matter – is constantly on the lookout for a reason to have her out of her life. Maura tries to push that thought far from her mind. “No,” she says finally. “She’s not.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

Before Maura can stop them, the words tumble out of her mouth, the ones she’s refused to say even to herself. “I’m scared it _is_ real.”

It seems to catch Cathy off guard as well, because she’s quiet for a long time before she speaks. “Because you’re not ready to enter a relationship?”

Maura shakes her head. “Not even close. And Jane… she doesn’t know how to deal with me right now. She tries so hard, but she just doesn’t get it.” She feels like some sort of monster, complaining about the way her best friend is trying to help her. Like a spoilt child furious about the contents of one of her fifty Christmas presents. “How can I be with her if I can’t confide in her?”

“Have you thought about bringing her here?”

“To therapy?” Maura frowns. Of course she hadn’t thought of that. “Why would I bring her here?”

“To help her understand.” Cathy smiles. “People do it all the time, Maura. Sometimes loved ones need to hear it from someone they aren’t so close to before they get it.”

Maura thinks about it for a moment. She never considered it, but the thought of bringing Jane into a session to learn how to care for her isn’t quite as terrifying as it sounds. Maybe it could really help. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll bring her in next week.”

Cathy grins. “We’ll plan for it.” She glances up at the clock behind Maura’s head. “We’ve only got a few minutes left; I want to circle back to talking about you going back to work. We got on a bit of a tangent.”

“Oh, right.” Maura forgot how they’d even gotten on the topic of her feelings for Jane. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize – tangents are good. It helps you lead things in here,” Cathy adds with a smile. “I just want to make sure we get you in a comfortable spot thinking about work.”

Maura nods. “I think you had a good point about me going in with Jane for a day,” she says. “I’m still nervous, though. I don’t know what might trigger me there, and I’d really rather not have a panic attack in front of everyone again.” She winces at the memory of collapsing at her party, every eye in the room watching her completely breakdown. The last thing she wants is a repeat of that.

“Why don’t you make a safety plan with Jane beforehand?” Cathy says. “If something triggers you, the two of you can work together to get you somewhere safe and out of the way to calm down.”

“Okay.” Maura tries to push away the rush of nerves at the thought of talking to Jane about her panic attacks. She’s going to have to soon enough anyway; she may as well rip off the band-aid now.

“Just listen to your body. Don’t try to fight it or ignore it; it’s okay if you need to take some time away and gather yourself,” Cathy says gently. “And you don’t have to jump back into everything right away, okay? Take some baby steps, ease yourself into it. You can always change your mind and go home if it’s too much.”

“Right.” Maura takes care to commit Cathy’s words to memory even as she hears them. She’s never been good at admitting when she can’t do something, but everything is different now. She needs to remember that it’s okay to lean on the people she loves. Glancing behind her at the clock, she sees that their hour is over, and she stands up to go. “I’ll see you next week. With Jane.”

Cathy stands up to walk her to the door. “Remember what I said,” she says as she opens it, releasing Maura out of the closed-off cocoon of her office and into the world. “Ask Jane about the memory.”

Maura offers a shaky smile. “I will,” she says, stepping out into the hallway. It’s not quite a lie, she thinks as Cathy closes the door, leaving her alone. She will ask Jane. Someday. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kids i'm on day 11 of quarantine now and we're under orders to stay home until may 1st, i might actually lose my fuckin mind by then !!!! hope you're all staying safe and healthy <3


	16. Chapter 16

In the passenger seat of Jane’s car, Maura watches the traffic lights pass by as they take the route that’s both too familiar and completely foreign. It’s barely a five-minute drive and, before she even has time to prepare, they’re in the parking garage and Jane is putting on the brake. Maura doesn’t take her seatbelt off right away. She just sits.

“Nervous?” Jane asks.

“To put it lightly.”

Jane leans over and clicks Maura’s seatbelt open for her. “Wanna go over the plan again?”

Maura feels her face get warm. They’ve already gone over it three times this morning; she shouldn’t need it again. And yet, she nods. She just needs to hear it again, to know that Jane hasn’t gone and changed it up without telling her.

“Okay, so you’re going to go to your meeting with Cavanaugh first thing – by the way, I can still come with you if you changed your mind.”

Maura shakes her head. “I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” Jane smiles. “Then we’re going to hang out in your office for the morning. We don’t have a case right now so I’m just doing paperwork.” Jane mimes gagging herself with her finger, actually managing to get a smile out of Maura despite the nerves. “People are probably going to be dropping by to see you, but we can tell them to go away if it gets too stressful.”

“Thank you,” Maura murmurs. Already, she can feel her heartrate slowing down slightly, knowing that Jane will be looking out for her today.

Jane continues running through the day. “We’ll go to the Robber for lunch, and you can decide if you want to go home or come back to BPD with me for the rest of the day. And I won’t try to convince you of anything.” She grins. “You’re gonna be okay, Maur. I’m going to be right there with you the whole day. I won’t let anything mess with your head.”

Maura takes a few centering breaths, allowing the oxygen to fill her lungs and slow the racing “what-ifs” circling in her mind. “Okay,” she says finally. “Let’s go.”

“That’s my girl!” Jane says with a wide grin, seeming not to notice the way it makes Maura nearly jump out of her seat.

Of course, she doesn’t have time to think about that now. She needs to focus all her attention on her meeting with Lt. Cavanaugh. He seemed excited about the idea when she spoke to him on the phone, but she has no idea what’s waiting for her now. A lot can change in a few days. She sticks close to Jane’s side all the way up to the bullpen, head down, avoiding everyone’s eyes as they go, until they’re standing outside Cavanaugh’s office door.

Jane takes Maura’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Maura sighs. It doesn’t sound convincing even to her own ears. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Okay.” Jane squeezes her hand one more time before dropping it, letting Maura’s empty hand fall back to her side. With a quick wink over her shoulder, she’s gone.

Maura takes a deep breath and turns back to the door in front of her. A surprisingly steady hand wraps around the handle, pulling it open and guiding her inside. “Good morning,” she says, forcing herself to sound as cheerful as ever.

Cavanaugh stands up from his desk. He’s smiling ear-to-ear, a reaction Maura’s not used to from him. Since Paddy Doyle’s trial, he’s only been as polite as he needs to be. Now, though, he’s walking around the desk, reaching out a hand for Maura to shake, without a trace of bitterness in his face. “Dr. Isles, you don’t know how happy I am to see you back here.”

Maura hesitantly accepts his handshake. They both sit down, face to face across the desk. “It feels good to be back here again,” she says. There’s no denying that she feels at home in this building; in fact, she’s probably spent more time here than her actual home some weeks. “But I’m not back to work yet.”

“Right, of course. Let me get right to it, then.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a few documents, laying them in front of him. He takes a moment to read one before continuing. “Now, you automatically went on medical leave when you were admitted to the hospital on June 18th. You sent me your resignation on the 20th, but it wasn’t binding, because you were on leave.” He shakes his head and looks up at her with a half-smile. “Bureaucracy and their technicalities.”

Maura nods. “So, I’m still on medical leave, then?”

“Yes, you are. You’re allowed up to twelve weeks. Which, from June 18th puts us at…” he searches on the page for the date, “September 10th.”

September 10th. That’s barely over two weeks away. Maura tenses in her seat; she thought she’d have much longer to think about things. “What happens on September 10th?” she asks softly.

Cavanaugh sighs. “You either come back or we offer the job to your temporary replacement.”

“Pike.” Maura shakes her head. She doesn’t want to leave everyone with him. But how is she supposed to know when she’s ready to come back to work? What signs is she supposed to be looking for?

“For what it’s worth,” Cavanaugh says, “I’d love to see you back here. I know everyone else would, too.” He smiles. “They don’t make brains like yours every day.”

Maura’s chest feels tight. She needs… she needs to get out of there. “I, um… have to think about it,” she says breathlessly, words suddenly jumbled and out of reach. Without bothering with pleasantries, she stands up and leaves Cavanaugh’s office, making a beeline for the elevator. She just needs to get to Jane. She needs to get to Jane. She needs-

The elevator opens just as she hits the button, and Jane steps out. “Oh hey,” she says with a grin. “I was just coming to find you; we got called to a scene. Wanna come?”

Maura hesitates. Her head is already spinning with Cavanaugh’s ultimatum. “Sure,” she hears herself saying before she’s even made up her mind, her people-pleasing nature winning out against her better judgment. She follows Jane down to the car. The entire drive, she can hear Jane’s voice, understands that Jane is explaining to her the nature of the scene, but she finds herself unable to understand any of the words she’s hearing. It feels almost as if she’s watching the rest of the world through a window, hearing the voices through a glass pressed against it.

The ambient sounds, though, are perfectly clear. Her ears are filled with the sound of the car’s tires against the roughly paved highway, the engine rumbling beneath the hood, the music turned way down low, just barely trickling out of the speakers. Altogether, it’s almost deafening.

Jane pulls the car to a stop at a red light, and Maura notices too late the flashing of lights on the patrol cars blocking off the scene just ahead. Another moment later, she realizes Jane is talking to her. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were okay.” Jane’s brow is furrowed. “You seem kind of checked out.”

“Just lost in thought.” Maura forces herself to smile. “Let’s go.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

Yes. “No,” Maura says firmly. “You need to do your job. And really, I’m fine.” She turns to look straight ahead just as the light turns green. She takes a deep breath. The car moves forward.

\--

It’s dark, and Maura’s still in the car. Her body aches. She has a sense of confusion, realizing after a few moments looking out the window that she has no idea where they are. She turns to Jane. “What’s going on?” she asks, cutting off whatever Jane is talking about.

Jane frowns. She glances over at Maura from the driver’s side. “What do you mean?”

“We left before lunch.” Maura looks back out the window at the black sky. “How far away is the crime scene?”

There’s a long silence. Maura can hear Jane’s breath, can feel the tension in Jane’s hands, gripping the steering wheel tight. Finally, “Maura, you’re messing with me, right?” Her voice is small and shaky like a frightened child’s.

Maura shakes her head. “Why would I be?”

“Because we just _left_ the crime scene fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Maura stiffens. She searches through her brain for any recollection of having been at the scene but comes up with nothing. “Really?”

“You’ve been talking to me this whole time,” Jane says slowly. “You really don’t remember anything?”

Maura shakes her head. She notices, then, a stinging in her left forearm, just below the elbow. She looks down. Staring back at her, bright red against pale skin, are three rough-looking wounds, each producing its own flow of blood. She looks at her right hand. Sure enough, her fingernails are caked with blood and skin. She glances back and forth between them for a moment in disbelief.

“Oh my god,” Jane says, looking over at her. “Maura, you’re bleeding.”

“I am.” Maura frowns. Shouldn’t she be more upset? She’s lost hours of time, just hurt herself for the first time in weeks. She should be… not this. “I’ll take care of it at home.” She turns her arm over so that the wounds are pressed against her abdomen, hidden from sight.

“We’re almost there.” Jane doesn’t say anything else after that. She keeps opening her mouth like she wants to say something, but closing it again, seeming to decide against it. It has the effect of making her resemble a goldfish.

Maura laughs out loud at the thought.

Jane looks over at her. “What’s so funny?”

“I… nothing. Sorry.”

“Maura,” Jane murmurs. Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “You’re scaring me, here.”

Maura stares at her lap. Her bottom lip slips between her teeth. She didn’t mean to scare Jane, not in the slightest. Maybe she should be scared, too. Right now, though, she doesn’t know how to be scared. She doesn’t know how to be anything. “I’m sorry,” she says, because it’s the right thing to say.

\--

The TV is on but it’s muted, and Jane is looking at her with deer-in-headlights eyes. Maura blinks a few times. She looks around, realizing she’s on her living room couch, sitting next to Jane in the dark. The silent TV casts a flickering light upon Jane’s face. Maura chews on the inside of her cheek. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

Jane nods slowly. “What do you remember last?”

Maura reaches over to her left arm. There’s a bandage on it, messily applied, which she can only assume is Jane’s work. Three tiny spots of red are visible on the outside. She rests her fingertips on it. “We were in the car,” she says. “You said I was scaring you. I said I was sorry.”

“Okay,” Jane sighs. “Okay, that was only about forty-five minutes ago.” She shakes her head. “I don’t get it – how are you doing that?”

“It’s called dissociation.” Maura tries to search her brain for any information she can offer Jane to ease her mind. “I don’t know much about it,” she admits. “But it’s common in trauma survivors.” _Which I am_ , she realizes. Of course, she knew that. She just forgot. “It’s a response to stimuli that trigger memories of the event. The brain’s way of protecting the person is to essentially… leave,” she finishes, unable to think of a more precise way to explain it. She’s still foggy.

Jane winces. “The vic today.”

“Hmm?”

“You started acting weird when I was explaining the scene on the way over,” Jane says. “It was a rape/murder.”

Maura feels the words like a weight in her stomach. “Yes, that was probably it,” she murmurs.

Jane leans forward. “Why didn’t you let me take you home if you were uncomfortable?”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your work.”

“Maur…” Jane sighs. “You’re never in the way; _you_ are my priority right now, okay? You just have to tell me what you need, because I can’t read your mind.”

Maura nods. Her emotions are all still out of reach, but today was exactly the wake-up call she needed. She can’t handle this all on her own anymore. “Okay,” she whispers.

“So,” Jane says, taking one of Maura’s hands in her own. “What do you need?”

Maura doesn’t say anything at first. It’s such a big question; she has absolutely no idea how to even begin to answer it. Her hands twitch in her lap. She can feel Jane’s eyes on her, waiting, and she knows she needs to say something to break the silence. “It’s all just so… heavy,” she sighs.

“What is?”

“I don’t know. Everything.” Maura hates herself for using such unspecific language. She’s got millions of words stored in her big brain, but none of them are quite enough to describe what’s weighing on her mind.

Jane gently squeezes Maura’s hand and flashes one of those soft-eyed smiles she only saves for Maura. “Then let me hold some of it for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im trying my best to keep up w my writing schedule on this, but quarantine is really getting my brain scrambled :// the last few chapters might be a lil late - but good news, i only have 5 more planned after this one!!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all when i tell you that your comments on the last few chapters are the ONLY thing getting me thru this shit .... thank you so much for appreciating what i'm doing here and putting a smile on my face

The car is silent. Maura’s fingers tap absently on the center console, dangerously close to where Jane’s hand tightly grips the gear shift. She hasn’t driven a stick shift in years, but the habit remains. Maura doesn’t remove her gaze from their hands; not for anything. She has to make sure her hand behaves itself.

Jane clears her throat. It seems unreasonably loud. “So… how are you feeling?”

Maura doesn’t answer for a moment. She doesn’t know the answer. Before, in Cathy’s office, she was overflowing with words; Cathy had to actually cut her off a few times to let Jane speak. Now, though, it seems both of them are at a loss for words. “Tired,” she says finally, deciding that’s safe. And honest; the session was incredibly draining on her emotions. “How are you?”

“Sad,” Jane says after a long pause.

Maura looks up at Jane’s face for a moment before quickly training her gaze back on her own hand. “Sad?”

Jane sighs heavily, and her shoulders sag with the breath. “I had no idea how bad it’s been for you,” she says softly. “I mean, you kept _insisting_ you were fine.”

“I know,” Maura murmurs. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Of course I worried, Maura. I worried even more because I knew you were lying to me.” Jane shakes her head. “I guess I still underestimated it, though.”

Maura glances down at her thighs, scars hidden by her pants, her dirty little secret. She had promised herself that, in today’s session, she would finally tell Jane about them. And then she didn’t. Jane was already looking at her like she was some pathetic basket case; there was no way Maura could admit how low she’d truly sunk. Besides, she isn’t doing that anymore. There’s nothing to tell.

“Look, I get it,” Jane says, interrupting Maura’s thoughts. “You don’t want us to worry, you don’t want to look like you can’t take care of yourself. I get that.” A vein in her throat bulges as her jaw sets. “But if you didn’t want anyone to care about you then you shouldn’t have become my friend.”

Maura’s hand recoils instinctively, drawing itself to cradle her stomach as each syllable lands like a sucker punch. Is that what Jane thinks? That Maura is pushing her away, that she would rather live her life alone? “That’s not it at all,” she murmurs, voice cracking. She clears her throat. “I’m just not used to people caring about me. I don’t know how to be cared for.”

“The entire time we’ve known each other, did you honestly think I don’t care about you?” Jane’s voice is rising in volume, in strength. There’s an edge of what sounds like anger behind the words.

“No, I-”

“Because I really wish you’d give me more credit than that.”

“But it’s not _about_ you, Jane,” Maura snaps, effectively cutting her off. She understands Jane is confused, even hurt, but she has absolutely no right to yell at Maura about the way she’s navigating her pain. She takes a deep breath, tries to dispel her anger and speak rationally, but there’s still a bite as she continues. “And maybe if you had stopped worrying about me being mad at you for five minutes, you would have noticed what I was going through.”

Jane falls silent. A brief sideways glance shows Maura a tightly clenched jaw and white knuckles on the gear shift. Clearly, Maura’s words hit a nerve.

Maybe Maura should apologize. She knows what she said was harsh and not entirely accurate. The part of her that loves Jane more than anything begs her to apologize. But another part of her, the part that carries her pride, speaks even louder. _We’re already wounded_ , it says. _We can’t let her tear us down completely._ With a tinge of shame, Maura listens to that voice.

The car slips back under that heavy blanket of silence, the tension hanging between them so thick it feels like a physical weight on Maura’s shoulders. She pushes against it. She refuses to be slave to it; refuses to have her pride knocked about anymore.

She’s already unbuckled her seatbelt before Jane even has the car in park. After a second’s hesitation, a brief urge to say something to Jane quickly overwritten by her stubbornness, Maura slams the car door behind her and stalks into the house quickly enough that Jane can’t even yell after her. Her bedroom welcomes her into its calming embrace.

She collapses onto the bed with a heavy sigh, wishing she could release the scream that’s trapped in her throat. Her fingers ball themselves into fists in her sheets as she stares up at the ceiling. She knows she’s only this angry because she’s in the wrong, because she’s hurt the person she loves so much. She knows she shouldn’t have snapped at Jane, blamed all her own failure to communicate on her, and yet she can’t bring herself to admit it out loud. She just keeps screaming at herself in her mind. What was it Jane said in the session that bludgeoned her defenses so badly? What were her exact words?

_“I just don’t know what you want from me.”_

_Maura blinks a few times as her brain processes the words at a snail’s pace. Jane asked what Maura_ wants _from her. Like she’s trying to play her, like all their years of friendship have been entirely transactional. She glances over at Cathy to gauge her reaction, but she’s just staring right back at Maura, awaiting her response. “I want…” she begins. But she doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. She has no idea how to answer such a ridiculous question. “I want you to see me,” she says slowly, “when you look at me.”_

_Jane furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”_

_“You treat me like I’m just some helpless victim; you’re always walking on eggshells around me, trying to coddle me and make me deal with things the way_ you _think I should. We haven’t had a normal conversation in months,” Maura says. Suddenly, the words are coming too quickly; she can’t stop them pouring out of her mouth. “It’s like you’re trying to solve a case, like you want to just figure it out and wrap it up all nice and neat, but I’m not some poor, voiceless victim on the morgue table, Jane. I’m_ me _.”_

_Jane stares back at Maura for a few moments, wide-eyed and slack jawed. “Just a few weeks ago, you said you felt like a stranger to yourself. I want to help you feel like your old self again.”_

_Maura shakes her head. “I’m never going to be my old self again. The person I was a few months ago died in that warehouse.” She leans forward, implores Jane to understand. “I don’t want to keep chasing her, and I don’t want to be stuck in the ‘getting better’ stage forever. I just want to move forward and figure out who I am now. I need you to see that, Jane. I_ need _you to accept who I’m becoming.” She’s practically begging now. Physically, she’s still seated in her chair, but in her mind she’s on her knees in front of Jane making her desperate plea._

_There’s a long, heavy pause before Jane says, “I didn’t know I wasn’t.” She doesn’t speak again for the rest of the session._

Guilt slowly settles in the bottom of Maura’s stomach. The conversation feels much different played over in her mind. She can’t stop seeing the way those wide brown eyes grew so weary, so heartbroken with every word. “Shit,” Maura says out loud. She lifts her hands to cover her face, shielding her eyes from the afternoon sunlight coming in from the window. She’s really made a mess of things now.

She needs to apologize, she decides firmly, needs to assure Jane she isn’t angry, just endlessly terrified of having to admit that she’s not in control. That she can’t face this all on her own. That she needs Jane in a way that’s both exhilarating and gut-wrenchingly terrifying.

It takes a few hours before her body catches up with her mind. By the time the shadows start to grow longer in orange light, Maura’s still lying in her bed, trying to find the perfect words to finally tell Jane everything she’s been keeping buried inside. She still hasn’t found them. She sighs and sits up, hair falling into her face. Maybe there are no perfect words. Just _her_ words.

Maura goes to the bathroom, watches herself in the mirror as she pulls off her wig, washes the glue out of her remaining hair, combs it as flat as she can. She scrubs off the makeup from her skin and gently rubs a moisturizer into it instead. When she’s finished, the person staring back at her is barely familiar. She doesn’t look like Maura; she looks brave. Maura needs this woman’s bravery tonight.

Her legs don’t shake as she goes downstairs. Her palms don’t sweat, her stomach doesn’t twist and turn. For all the time she’s spent being terrified of this exact moment, she’s surprisingly calm as she walks into it. Because now she’ll know. No matter what happens next, she’ll know. All she needs is to know.

Jane is at the table with a case file and a beer in front of her. There are two empty bottles beside the half-full one, Maura notices. She takes a few deep breaths, drawing her thoughts together, and crosses the living room to stand in front of Jane. “Hi,” she says.

“Hey.” Jane doesn’t look up. Her eyes stay glued to the page in her hand, but they stop scanning, remaining still in the silence that falls.

Maura falters just a bit. She hoped Jane would have cooled off by now, but clearly there’s still some animosity on her end. “Can we talk?”

Jane sets down the page with a heavy sigh, finally meeting Maura’s eyes. “Am I gonna need another one of these?” she asks, lifting her half-finished beer.

“Maybe.”

Without a word, Jane stands up and goes to the fridge, gulping down the rest of her beer as she does. She pulls out two more fresh bottles. A moment later, to her surprise, Maura finds one of the bottles being pressed into her hand. She decides to take it as a peace offering.

They move to the couch. Maura spends a moment fiddling with the twist-off cap on her beer, both to give herself time to get her thoughts in order and because she really isn’t used to opening them. She takes a sip, clears her throat, and sets the bottle on the coffee table. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said what I said in the car.”

Jane nods as she sets down her own beer. “Is it true?” she asks softly. “Have I seriously been so caught up in myself I haven’t noticed?”

“No. I was just feeling so…” Maura searches for the right word, “weak,” she says finally. “I don’t know how to be a victim; I don’t know how to admit that I can’t solve all my own problems.” She reaches up for her hair, forgetting that she’s not wearing her wig. “But that’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.” Jane smiles. “I haven’t seen you without the wig on in a while. I almost forgot what was under there.”

Maura is surprised to not feel the self-conscious warmth in her cheeks. She just nods. “I didn’t want to bring any lies into this conversation.”

Jane frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.” Maura locates a piece of peeling skin on her thumb, finds herself picking at it incessantly as all the nerves rush forward at once. “A lot of things I haven’t told you.” The piece of skin comes off between her fingers. “A lot of things I need to tell you.” Where earlier she was completely at peace, Maura’s now filled with terror. There’s no way she can back out of this now. This is really, finally happening.

Jane smiles, leans closer, all her anger gone and forgotten. “I’m listening.”


	18. Chapter 18

Maura waits a long time before she says anything. She wants this moment to last as long as it possibly can, this moment before everything is different between them. This moment of hanging her toes over the edge of the cliff, bracing herself to leap, teetering in a gust of wind. “I’ve spent weeks trying to come up with the perfect words for this,” she begins, “but I realized today that they don’t exist. It’s just going to be imperfect, and I’m just going to have to be okay with that.”

“When did you get so wise?” Jane says with a grin. “Wait, please don’t take that literally,” she adds hurriedly. “I just mean… that’s new for you. Usually you can’t accept anything less than perfect.”

“True perfection doesn’t exist.” Maura can’t stop the fact from tumbling out of her mouth, the know-it-all side taking over as it always does when she doesn’t know what else to say. “But I still deluded myself into thinking that I could achieve it.”

Jane nods. “I think you got closer than anyone else has.”

It’s comments like those that make Maura forget every word she’s ever learned. The ones that don’t make themselves clear as to their intentions; that tauntingly plant one foot on either side of the line between platonic and romantic. She takes a deep breath to try to center her thoughts and prepare herself to finally let out the words that have been trapped tightly behind her lips. “Most of my memories of the days before I was abducted are unclear.”

Instantly, Jane sobers. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “You’ve said that.”

“I remember a few things, but it’s hard to tell what’s real and what my mind has fabricated to try to compensate for the missing events.” _Stop talking like a doctor_ , she scolds herself. _It’s just Jane_. “There’s a memory I have that feels like it could have just been a dream. I just wanted… I need to know if it really happened.”

Jane nods slowly, her eyes flicking down to her lap where weathered hands have already found one another and clasped on tightly. “I think I know what you’re talking about.”

Maura’s stomach lurches so vigorously that she reflexively places a hand over it, as though she’s stopping it from launching completely out of her body. “You do?”

“The night before _it_ happened, we talked about some stuff we probably should have talked about a long time ago.” Jane shakes her head. “This is gonna sound so selfish, but when you were in the hospital and you told me that you forgot a bunch of stuff, I hoped you’d forgotten that conversation so I could have a chance to do it over again.”

Maura frowns. She tries to search the memory for anything more than what she remembers, anything that may have negated the happiness surrounding it. There’s nothing. “Why?” she asks.

The question seems heavier to Jane than to Maura, if the tensing of her shoulders is any indication. “How much do you actually remember?”

“Not a lot,” Maura admits. “Just that we were talking and that I was really, _really_ happy. And…” She can’t stop the smile that comes over her face as she says it, as she remembers what came next, “did you kiss me?”

“You kissed me,” Jane says with the ghost of a smile.

“And then what happened?”

Jane’s face erases any trace of that tiny smile and shifts instead to a hardened stare. “I freaked,” she sighs. “I told you I’d call you and I ran out and went back home.”

Maura still doesn’t remember all this happening, but there’s a sense of haunting familiarity as Jane describes it. She feels a dull pain in the back of her heart like a bruise that she can’t stop touching, and she knows it’s the memory of how much it must have hurt. “Why?” she asks softly.

“I was scared.” Jane shakes her head. “Everything was already too much, and I… I’ve never loved someone as much as you. I was so scared of messing it all up.” She laughs bitterly. “I guess I did anyway, huh?”

Wordlessly, Maura shakes her head. There’s nothing Jane could ever do to make Maura love her any less, nothing that could drive her away. No amount of fear can keep them apart. She just wishes she could make Jane see that. “Why haven’t you said anything? It’s been months since all that happened.”

Jane’s shoulders sag with the weight of the past few months, a weight with which Maura is all too familiar. “I didn’t want to put any pressure on you to start anything. I figured you would come to it in your own time, you know?” She smiles and leans a little closer to Maura. “It took us five years to get here. I could wait another couple of months.”

Maura watches the muscles move beneath the tanned skin of Jane’s face. If she really looks, she can see the fine lines, the dark circles, the evidence of how the events of Jane’s life have weathered her. But mixed in with those is just as much, if not more evidence of all the joy. Maura looks closer at the gentle lines around the corners of her mouth, the creases around her eyes, deepened with every smile. Maura wonders just how many of those smiles have been for her. She wonders, too, how many of those frowns have been for her.

She shifts her gaze to Jane’s hands. The scars aren’t as visible now as they used to be, but they’ll never fade completely. They catch the light and flash silver and pink as Jane nervously kneads her palms. She’s had those scars as long as Maura’s known her, had the matching scars in her heart just as long, and Maura often wonders what Jane was like before she got them. Softer, perhaps? Less guarded?

In her mind, Maura runs through a list of all of Jane’s scars; the ones that have been added to her body in the five years Maura has known it. There’s the one on her abdomen from when she shot herself to save Frankie. The one hidden by her hair from their car accident, when, even though they weren’t speaking, Jane risked her life to save Maura’s. The one on her hip that no one but Maura knows exists, from when Maura insisted they try roller skating and Jane took a nasty tumble.

For all the ways Maura knows Jane’s body like the back of her hand, there’s so many more ways she’s desperate to know it just as well as her own. She’s longed for so many years to run her hands over that skin, to feel the muscles moving beneath it, without any pretense or fear of lingering too long. Now, finally faced with the opportunity to touch Jane for real, she has no idea what to do with it.

“Maur?” Jane asks hesitantly, pulling Maura out of her thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“I… I’m not ready,” Maura whispers. Her voice cracks as she says it. “I need more time.” She refuses to look at Jane. She just stares at her lap, waits for Jane to get angry or start crying or both. She’s already formulating an apology in her mind when Jane says the last thing she expects.

“Okay.” Jane’s smiling when Maura looks up, no trace of resentment in her face at all.

Maura fights against the moisture coming into her eyes. She _won’t_ let it get the best of her. “What?”

Jane smiles even wider. “It’s okay.” She reaches out a hand, and Maura wordlessly slips hers into it. Their fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between one another. “If I’m lucky enough to get to be with you, I want it to be a hundred percent on _your_ terms.”

“I don’t want to keep you waiting for me.” Maura wipes at her eyes as they continue to fill, suddenly overcome with a thousand different emotions she doesn’t know how to process all at once. “You don’t deserve that.”

Jane shakes her head. “No, stop it. I’m beyond lucky to have you in my life at all, Maura. I don’t care if it takes you thirty years before you’re ready for more, or even if you never are; we’re _always_ going to be best friends and I’m _always_ going to be thankful for that.” She squeezes Maura’s hand, leaning forward and using her free hand to cup Maura’s jaw. She gently brushes away a stray tear with her thumb. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Maura resists the urge to lean into Jane’s hand. She nods, pulling back and wiping both hands across her face with a heavy sigh. Then, despite herself, she starts to laugh. “It’s just a little cliché, isn’t it?” she says when she notices Jane looking at her strangely. “You know, best friends tearfully admitting they’re in love after years of denying it. It’s been done to death.”

Jane smiles. “Maybe because it’s realistic.” Her smile fades, suddenly giving way to a somber, timid stare. “You’re in love with me?”

Maura’s stomach clenches. She didn’t realize the weight of the words as they were coming out of her mouth; she’d thought them a thousand times before, but maybe it was reckless to assume Jane felt as strongly in return. Did she just ruin everything? She opens her mouth to apologize and take it all back, but Jane cuts her off before she can.

“Before, when people told me that, I’d be halfway to the door before they could finish the sentence,” Jane murmurs. She looks directly into Maura’s eyes, her gaze practically burning a hole in them. “But I’m not scared this time.”

Oh. That wasn’t even close to what Maura expected to hear. She tries to read Jane’s face, but it’s not revealing anything. “What’s different this time?”

“None of them really knew me, but you do.” Jane blinks a few times, clearly trying to block the tears spilling into her own eyes. “And you love me anyway.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y'all ....... this chapter officially put me over the 300,000 word mark on my ao3 acct ......... i'm so shook

There’s a body on the table already when Maura arrives for her first day back at work. Courtesy of Kent, Maura remembers, who’s graciously agreed to take over Maura’s duties at crime scenes until she’s ready to go herself again. She didn’t exactly plan to start her first day back in the middle of an open case, but murderers don’t wait for convenient times to strike, she supposes.

Maybe it’s a good thing, though. When she’s performing an autopsy, her brain shuts down all other pathways of thought, directs all her focus to the body beneath her hands and the task of bringing peace to that body’s loved ones. Of creating just a little bit more good to bring balance to the world. When she’s focused, she can’t think about… other things.

Kent comes into the lab shortly after Maura’s finished putting on her lab coat and protective gear. He smiles broadly when he sees her. “Ah, the queen of the dead, returned to her kingdom.” He leans against the side of the lab table, arms folded casually across his chest. “Your loyal subjects await,” he adds, gesturing to the sheet-covered body lying on the morgue table.

Maura smirks. She didn’t think she’d miss Kent’s silly accent and strange, sometimes impossible to understand humor, but she finds herself comforted by it now. He’s not bending over backwards to avoid stepping on her toes, not coddling her like she’s a scared little girl. He’s just joking around like always, like nothing has changed. Deciding to play along, Maura offers a miniature curtsy, flaring the ends of her lab coat out with her hands. “It’s good to see you, Kent,” she says warmly. “And thank you, again, for taking over at the crime scene this morning. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Ah, don’t you worry about that,” Kent says with a wave of his hand. “I don’t mind an early morning – Afghanistan and all.” He reaches behind him and picks up the file from the table to give to Maura. “Here’s all the crime scene photos and the information on the victim so you can get going on the autopsy.”

“Thank you.” Maura takes the file, feeling her stomach leap just a little at the idea of starting the autopsy. It’s been so long since she’s done one. Hopefully her skills are just as sharp. “What are you working on in here?”

Kent grins. “Detective Rizzoli gave me two jobs: start the tox screen on the victim, and…” he pauses, face and voice softening, “make sure you’re all right. You can guess which one is the higher priority.”

Maura suppresses a sigh. She can’t take it personally that Jane wants her taken care of; she can’t take it as a slight against her capability. _I’m allowed to lean on my friends_ , she reminds herself, just as Cathy instructed her. _They want to help me because they love me. I don’t have to do this all by myself._ She half-forces a smile. “I’m okay,” she says as calmly as possible. “Go ahead and start the tox screen.”

“Okay.” Kent nods. “I don’t want to badger you. But I’m glad to take over for a bit if you need a break, yeah?”

Maura feels her shoulders relax, not even realizing they were tensed. She was preparing for a fight, to defend herself and her capability to do her work, but there’s no need now. He _believes_ her. She goes back into the morgue, looking through the file as she does to familiarize herself with the case. It seems like a standard drug deal gone wrong based on Jane’s notes, but Maura knows better than to fall into Jane’s trap of assumptions and “gut feelings”. She’ll approach this the same way she always does.

For all her nerves, she’s relieved to find that muscle memory takes over the second her fingers make contact with the handle of the scalpel. Thankfully, the subconscious memory is infinitely more retentive than the conscious. The blade seems to guide itself through chilled flesh, allowing Maura to see what no one else can; allowing her to speak for those who can no longer speak for themselves.

She’s so deeply focused that she barely notices when the door to the morgue swings open. Doesn’t notice until a familiar pair of hands come into view across the table, twin scars staring at Maura like a second set of eyes. She looks up to see Jane looking at her.

“It’s good to see you back in your natural habitat,” Jane says with a playful grin. “How are you settling back in?”

Maura smiles and straightens, removing her gloves as her brain eases out of its intense focus. “It’s like I never left.” She makes sure to keep her voice level, in check. The subtle flirtation, the stolen glances she’s been sharing with Jane in the couple of weeks since their conversation are certainly not acceptable at work. She has to draw the line somewhere. “I haven’t gotten too far here yet, but Kent is working on the tox screen. It should be ready soon.”

Jane shakes her head. “That’s great, but I’m not here about the vic.” She leans her hips – those strong, muscular hips – against the table. “I wanted to be here when you first came in, but you know how murder likes to mess with our plans.” She laughs shortly. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay so far.”

“I am,” Maura says, surprisingly not needing to stretch the truth. “I was nervous, of course. But I forgot how much this work means to me.” She smiles. “I’m back where I belong,” she says firmly.

“Good,” Jane says with a warm smile.

Looking into those eyes, for a moment Maura almost forgets that they’re at work, lost in infinite depths of amber and brown. She’s so caught off guard she has to rest a hand on the table to steady herself as her knees betray her. “I should probably get back to this,” she says, voice suddenly weak. _Get it together_ , she tells herself. _You’re at work now. This is no time to act like a teenage girl with a crush._ “I’ll let you know when I have something.”

Jane’s smirk tells her that, despite her best efforts to hide it, Maura’s fumbling didn’t go unnoticed. She leaves the morgue without a word. Though, if Maura’s not mistaken, the way she swings her hips as she goes is just a little more exaggerated than usual. Just enough so that no one would notice. No one but Maura, that is.

Maura shakes her head. She can’t think about things like this; not now, not when the woman lying on the table in front of her needs her to uncover the truth. She usually doesn’t dictate her autopsies anymore, but today she needs to extra focus of talking herself through the steps. Clipping the microphone to the lapel of her coat, Maura speaks her process into the machine, pushing away all thoughts of Jane and Jane’s hands and buttons slipping open one by one beneath long, nimble fingers…

“Now scraping beneath the fingernails for particles,” she says, clearing her throat. God, she hopes the recording didn’t pick up on her faltering. The last thing she needs is _evidence_ of her utter incapability to function with Jane on her mind. She collects the particles from the woman’s fingernails onto a tray and brings them into the lab for testing, switching off the recorder as she does.

Kent is still working on the tox screen as she slides up to the table beside him with her sample. He greets her with a smile. “Found anything yet?” he asks.

Maura shakes her head. “Nothing concrete. I scraped these particles from the fingernails; hopefully they tell us something about the killer.”

“So far I’ve found cocaine and amphetamines.” Kent slides his notes across the table so she can read them. “Still waiting on some more results.”

“Thank you, Kent. I’ll tell Jane.” Maura reaches into her coat pocket for her phone.

“So,” Kent says slowly, walking around the table to open up one of the supply cabinets. He doesn’t look at her. “Can I ask what’s on your mind?”

Maura frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well, most of the time you just pepper in the case between talking about your personal life most of the day.” Kent turns around, offering her a bright smile. “Not that that’s bad – I quite like it, actually,” he adds. “But you’ve been quiet today, which means that whatever’s going on must be a doozy.”

“I didn’t realize I was so transparent,” Maura says softly.

“You’re not. I’m just perceptive.” Kent offers the same cheeky smile as always, the one that assures Maura there’s nothing wrong.

Maura shakes her head. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind. Decisions to make.”

“Ah, decisions are _not_ your favorite.”

“No,” Maura says, laughing softly. She’s aware of how she acts when faced with even a minor choice; Jane always used to joke that she’d take three to five business days to pick a place to get takeout from. And now the stakes are much, _much_ higher. She’s been avoiding thinking about it as much as possible.

“Isn’t this usually the part where Detective Rizzoli comes down pretending to ask about the case, then you guys go into your office and have a heart-to-heart?” Kent says, so deadpan Maura almost misses the teasing sparkle in his eye. “I mean, it seems like she always helps you figure it out.”

Maura feels herself smile before she can stop it. “She does.” And then, of course, come the nerves, bubbling up in her chest at the thought of messing things up with Jane. Of saying “yes” too soon, or “no” and losing her forever. She sighs. “But she’s the last person that can help me with this.”

Somehow, Maura gets the feeling that Kent understands exactly what she means, but he doesn’t react how she would have expected. He just nods. “Well, that doesn’t mean you have to figure it out on your own, you know.”

“This time I do.” As the words leave her lips, something seems to click in her mind, some pieces she somehow never put together until this moment. She knows exactly what’s keeping her from being with Jane. That little secret no one knows about, that she pretends isn’t even real, is the only thing standing in the way. “Oh,” she says softly, not even fully realizing she’s said it out loud until she notices Kent looking at her expectantly, as though she has more to add. “I’ve figured it out,” she says. “I just have to figure out how much trouble the truth will cause.”

“In my experience, the truth always has a way or revealing itself sooner or later,” Kent says. “Better if it comes from you.”

It’s strange taking advice from anyone besides Jane and Angela, but somehow Kent manages to say exactly what Maura knows she’d hear from either of them. She knows he’s right. She needs to tell Jane the truth, everything she’s been hiding, otherwise everything they do from now will be built on dishonesty and mistrust. Maura can’t do that to them.

And, if the direction her thoughts have been taken are anything to go by, she needs to do it soon. She’s starting to go crazy just from thinking about the possibility of being with Jane; if she doesn’t get to do it soon, she might lose her mind. She just wants to live in the gray for a little bit longer. Before Jane has the chance to freak out and jump off Maura’s sinking ship.

 _No,_ Maura scolds herself. She promised herself she’d stop thinking the worst of everyone. Yes, there have been people, too many to count (that won’t stop her from trying, of course), that have dropped her like a hot potato at the first sign of trouble. But Jane has never been one of them. Through everything, even when Maura was being terribly cruel to her, Jane hasn’t faltered even once in her love and support. She’s remained firmly rooted at Maura’s side.

Learning about this new side of Maura can’t change that. Can it?

Maura clears her throat. It can’t. She won’t let it. “You’re right,” she says to Kent, realizing she’s been silent for too long. “I just need to face the music.” Before she can change her mind, she pulls her phone from her pocket to send Jane a text. _Are you free tonight?_

Jane’s reply is almost instantaneous. _If you need me, I will be. What’s up?_

_I just need to talk to you._

_Of course. See you at home?_

Maura’s heart jumps at the word “home”. She didn’t even notice it until now, but somewhere in the last few months Jane’s temporary stay at Maura’s house has bled into a permanent situation. She smiles gently as she types out her reply. _See you at home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can y'all believe there's only one more chapter after this ((plus an epilogue)) !!!!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost forgot to post this today bc i didn't know it was friday until 4pm my b

Sunset has become Maura’s favorite part of the day. Before, she was always too busy to enjoy them, working hard on this or that from dawn till dusk, never stopping to watch the sky paint itself in watercolor. But it’s different now. She can’t say she’s exactly thankful to have gone through what she did, but there’s no denying that her journey in healing from it has practically given her a new pair of eyes.

Before, Maura never would have been able to sit alone like this, in complete silence, looking up at the sky, memorizing shades of pink and orange she never knew existed. She never would have let Jane – or anyone else for that matter – see the parts of her that Jane is seeing now. The broken parts. The parts that have never known the love they know now. She never would have learned just how strong she is.

She’s never looked at herself that way; strong and brave. Always just meek Maura, the brain with no brawn. Now, though, she knows what’s hidden inside her. She’s survived every step of this path since May, even when it seemed like she wouldn’t make it, and now here she is. Breathing deeply. Wrapped up in a knit sweater surrounded by leaves that can’t decide if they’re ready to change color.

Maybe they understand her in that way.

Maura wonders how Jane is doing. It’s only been half an hour; Maura expects she’ll be out here for quite some time while Jane tries to understand what the letter is telling her, processing the knowledge that Maura has been hiding this from her all this time. She hopes Jane understands why she had to do it like this; had to protect herself from watching the bombs strike.

_“What did you want to talk about?”_

_“I’m ready. For whatever comes next for us.”_

_“You don’t look too sure about that.”_

_“I just need you to read this first. There’s some things you need to know, but I’m not ready to talk about yet.”_

_“What are you talking about? What’s so bad you can’t say it to my face?”_

_“I’m going to go for a walk.”_

_“Maura-”_

_“I can’t watch you read it. Just… text me when you’re ready for me to come home. Take all the time you need.”_

_“Maura, hey, wait.”_

_“What?”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I hope that’s still true when I get back.”_

Maura didn’t look at Jane’s face before she left, but she can imagine perfectly in her mind the mixture of confusion and worry in the way she holds her mouth. She’s seen it hundreds of times. She knew as soon as she sent that text earlier in the day that she wouldn’t be able to look at that face, look into those deep brown eyes and tell her the truth. This is the only way it could be.

The past few months feel hazy in her memory, all her life before them even more so, but a few moments are so crystal clear it’s almost like reliving them over and over again. And Jane is the star of every single one. Like that time Jane held her hand at dinner, that first time since her ordeal that Maura realized that love was still possible, that he hadn’t ripped it all out of her fragile heart.

Like a week ago when Jane took Maura to the shooting range, promising that learning how to handle a weapon would help Maura feel safer. Maura was skeptical, of course. But, reminding herself that to love Jane means to trust her, she went. The memory is so clear, she can practically feel the cold, smooth metal in her hand even now.

_“Brace your shoulders.” Jane’s hands on her shoulders are tender but firm. Maura tries not to let herself get distracted by the long fingers tapping gently in place. “The kickback can be pretty intense. You’re gonna feel like you’re getting thrown backwards.”_

_“Newton’s third law of motion,” Maura says. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The gun expels the bullet, so the same amount of force is exerted back to the person who pulls the trigger.” She’s babbling. She knows she is. But she’s too nervous to stop. “And, by the second law, force being mass times acceleration-”_

_“Maura?” Jane says, a soft, affectionate smile on her face. “I’m not gonna let you get hurt.”_

_And, like always, Jane keeps her promise._

As she remembers it now, Maura finds herself stuck on those laws again. The laws of motion. Since she was in elementary school, she’s had them committed to memory, watched to see them in action at every opportunity. She’s used them to bring killers to justice in her lab, to make the world make sense.

If what happened to her in May was the action, maybe everything that’s happened since then has been the reaction. Equal in intensity, opposite in direction. Maybe, in that way, it all makes sense.

Maura’s phone vibrates in her pocket. She jumps, scrambling to pull it out, desperate to know what Jane is thinking as she reads Maura’s letter. But, instead of Jane’s name on the screen, Maura finds herself looking at an email advertising a BOGO sale on shoes. She shakes her head. It’s only been an hour now, of course Jane will need more time than that.

If Maura’s being honest with herself, Jane probably hasn’t even finished reading it yet. She knows she can be a little wordy… or a lot wordy. It took her nearly ten pages, front and back, to make her confession. To explain why she doesn’t wear short dresses anymore, why every time Jane buys a new pack of razors they seem to go missing. Why the stinging of skin opening beneath her hand makes her forget, for just a moment, the stinging of her heart begging to stop beating.

This letter makes Jane the fourth person in the world to know, behind her parents and Cathy. Always, she’s been so careful, keeping every light off when someone shares her bed, never daring to accept an invitation to the beach no matter how Jane pleads. She’s never laid herself so bare like this before. All she can hope is that Jane will still look at her with those same sparkling brown eyes after today.

Her phone vibrates again. Maura reaches for it, bracing herself for another disappointment. It doesn’t come. This time, she’s faced with exactly the name she’s been waiting for, accompanied by a short message that carries so much more than its words could ever know.

_Come home. I love you. Nothing could ever change that._

And, with that, the world cracks open. Suddenly, Maura’s not looking through a tunnel anymore, but spinning in circles finally seeing everything around her in the light of day. She’s dropped the weight she’s been carrying all on her own for so long, standing up straighter now, no longer having to struggle against it as it tries to push her down.

It’s a good thing no one is at the park tonight. The wide grin that appears on Maura’s face is surely goofy enough to raise questions. Although, as she looks around the empty expanse of the park, she finds herself almost wishing that someone was here to bear witness to this feeling, to assure her it’s all real.

She needs to get home. Jane is expecting her, Jane is waiting for her, Jane _wants_ her. Maura brushes hair away from her face and squares her shoulders, letting her feet guide her down the familiar path home while her mind wanders still in endless meandering directions.

Maybe she was wrong before, about her journey throughout the summer being the reaction to what happened. Maybe that was all just part of the action. Yes, it’s clear now; all that pain she absorbed and stored deep within herself, that was just as much a part of it all as the kidnapping itself.

But now.

Now, she gets to take all that pain into steady and sure hands, gets to squeeze and mold and shape it until it looks like love, gets to pour all that beautiful golden love into everyone that helped carry her through the past few months. And maybe she’ll even save a few drops for herself, too. At this point, she’s earned it.

Maybe she’ll even one-up Newton himself, make her reaction more than just equal. For every second this summer she’s spent alone in the dark, she’ll spend two wrapped up in Jane’s arms. Every “I’ll never be enough” will become two “I love yous”, a thousand smiles for every time her heart beat too loudly in her chest, begging to just stop.

As she rounds the corner onto her street, Maura feels like she’s practically floating. For the first time since May, the future is clear and bright, the present warm and inviting, the past firmly where it belongs. She’s not stupid; she knows there will be more battles yet to come. But she not only feels ready to face them, she has _evidence_ to prove that she’s capable of winning again and again. She’s not going into them alone anymore; she’s got an army to stand with her. She’s got Jane.

And, as she opens the front door to see Jane waiting for her with those melted chocolate eyes, she thinks this is a sight she could definitely get used to.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ...... that's the end. i do have an epilogue in the works but it's pretty much completely separate from the plot so if you miss it you'll live. just wanted to say thanks so much to all of you who loved this story!!! it's quite a bit darker than my normal stuff, but it's been amazing to write my way through maura's healing and, at the same time, my own. i love all of you so much. hope you're safe and healthy and i hope i'll see y'all for the epilogue <3


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BARELY finished this on time but i managed!!!

Growing up, Maura never knew Christmases could contain such joy. The Isles family Christmas was beautiful every year, of course, but it was all twinkling golden lights and bright white evergreens tall enough to scrape the ceiling of their too-big house. It was forced smiles and dresses too stiff to dance in and sitting quietly while guests mingled over glasses of champagne, sticking to scripted banter when finally she was old enough to be more than just a decoration.

With the Rizzolis, though, it’s different. Gone are the washed-out neutrals, the sitting on the sidelines watching the seconds tick by, replaced by loud peals of laughter from every corner of the living room and a thick, lopsided, green tree standing proudly in the corner, brown patches and all. The walls are strung with bright bulbs in every color of the rainbow, construction-paper-and-glitter-glue ornaments courtesy of Tommy and TJ hung on the tree, the furniture, and every doorknob.

It’s the most beautiful sight Maura’s ever seen.

She’s watching from the kitchen as Jane and Tommy bicker over who gets to open the first present, Angela trying her best but failing to yell over the both of them, and it almost throws her off her feet when Jane turns around and catches her eye with a smile caught between joy and concern. Argument with Tommy seemingly forgotten, Jane gets up from the couch and comes to the kitchen to slide an arm around Maura’s waist. “You okay?” she murmurs, lips pressed into Maura’s hair in a kiss.

Maura smiles. “Just trying to memorize how perfect this is.”

“You won’t be thinking that a few years from now. You know they _never_ stop, right?” Jane grins and squeezes Maura’s waist. “Your hair looks good.”

“Thanks,” Maura whispers. Earlier that day she was practically having a meltdown trying to decide whether or not to wear her wig tonight. She just had it cut a few days ago, bringing the ends off of her neck and letting it fall forward into her face; certainly preferable to the borderline mullet she’d had before.

“Come on, let’s open some presents.” Jane takes Maura’s hand and guides her into the living room to sit on the couch between Angela and Frankie.

Once they start tearing into wrapping paper, Maura finds herself caught up in the warmth, laughing along with Jane’s family – _her_ family. She doesn’t even notice the hours slip by until Tommy is loudly pointing out that it’s nearly midnight and TJ needs to get to bed or his whole schedule will be thrown off.

One by one, the Rizzolis pull Maura into a tight hug, wish her a merry Christmas, and file out the front door until she’s standing alone in the living room with Jane’s hand on the small of her back. She turns to face Jane. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I’ve never had a Christmas like that before.”

“Yeah? It wasn’t too low-brow for your Beacon Hill lifestyle?” Jane smirks.

“It was perfect.”

“Good.” Jane kisses Maura’s head. “Ready for bed?”

“Actually, I have one more present for you.” Maura feels her heart start to race as she says it. When she bought it a few weeks ago, she wasn’t sure if she’d be ready, but she tucked it in the back of her closet anyway, just in case. But here, nestled in Jane’s arms, she knows she’s ready. There’s nothing she wants more.

Jane’s eyebrow arches as she looks down at Maura. “Really?”

“Come on.” This time, Maura leads the way, pulling Jane by the hand upstairs to her bedroom, the one they share every now and then, when Maura can’t bear to be an entire floor away from Jane. Usually, though, Jane stays in the guestroom. They both agreed to take things slow for now.

Tonight though, Maura guides Jane to sit on the bed, but she doesn’t join her. “Close your eyes,” she says with a gentle smirk. She can feel the excitement bursting out of her at the anticipation of seeing Jane’s reaction.

Jane narrows her eyes, but she doesn’t protest. Her eyes fall shut.

Maura quickly pulls the box out of her closet and takes off her sweater and pants. She tries not to make a sound as she slips the silky lace bra and panties over her skin, followed by the sheer robe that she ties around her waist despite it not hiding a single thing. She checks herself briefly in the mirror. Now is her last chance to change her mind; to keep the last bit of herself hidden from Jane.

But she doesn’t want to do that.

She grins. Finally, she’s not only ready, she’s _excited_ to bear herself to Jane. She moves across the room to stand in front of Jane, deciding in a split second to gently slide herself into Jane’s lap and wrap her legs around Jane’s waist. She leans in to kiss her. “Open your eyes,” she whispers as their lips part.

Electricity races through Maura as Jane’s eyes rake up and down her body, hands slipping around her hips to bring her closer. Dark eyes grow even darker as her pupils dilate, and Maura can’t help but feel a little proud of herself for having that effect on her. “Do you like it?” she murmurs as though she doesn’t know the answer.

Jane doesn’t speak. A heavy breath flows out of her as she nods. Long fingers dig into Maura’s hips, pulling her even closer until seemingly every inch of Maura’s skin is touching Jane. Finally, when Jane speaks, her voice is low and rough like Maura’s never heard it before. “Are you… are you sure?”

Maura smiles. She pulls back just enough to look Jane in the eye, to slip a finger under her chin and tilt her face up to look straight at her. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Jane doesn’t even hesitate. She stretches up to capture Maura’s lips in a kiss so deep, so passionate, it’s evident just how long she’s wanted this. For a moment, Maura forgets to breathe. She’s thought about this for years, built it up in her mind until she was afraid her expectations were too high, but nothing she ever imagined could compare to the feeling of Jane’s lips caressing her jaw.

She can’t stop the breathy little sigh that slips out of her as those lips travel down her throat, gentle tongue slipping into the hollows of her collarbone complemented by the sharpness of teeth. It only seems to spur Jane on, however, as her lips graze the top of Maura’s breast, sliding over the edge of the lace that’s the only thing keeping Maura from being completely exposed.

And then she stops.

Maura opens her eyes, looking down for some clue as to why Jane is suddenly frozen. It takes a moment to register the hands on her thighs, but when she feels calloused thumbs stroking back and forth over those little bumps she knows. “It’s okay,” she whispers, suddenly embarrassed for some reason. It’s not as though she wasn’t expecting this. “They don’t hurt.”

“I’ve never seen them before.” Jane’s eyes are laser focused on the scars. Maura follows her gaze; old and new scars mix amongst one another on Maura’s skin, though the newer ones are still pink and raised in contrast to the silvery ones from so many years ago. “I mean, I knew, but… it’s different to _see_ it.”

“I’m sorry,” Maura says automatically. She mentally kicks herself. It’s so easy to slip into old habits.

“No.” Jane shakes her head. “I just hate that you ever had to hurt that much.”

Maura’s chest clenches at the way Jane’s eyes fall. “Hey,” she says, gently guiding Jane’s face up to look at her. “I’m okay, now. It’s okay.”

“Yeah.” Jane still looks uncertain.

“Let’s not focus on that right now. We’ll have plenty of time for that later.” Maura smirks and brings her other hand up to cradle Jane’s face in both her hands. “I believe you were headed in a rather interesting direction.”

For a split second, it appears as though Jane might protest, but she just grins and stretches up to kiss Maura long and slow. As they pull apart, she wraps her arms tightly around Maura’s waist and flips her over to lie down on the bed, strong embrace assuring Maura she wouldn’t dare drop her.

It’s not nearly as terrifying as Maura expected. Her skin sings beneath Jane’s touch, her moans music to her own ears as they fill every corner of the room, crescendo after crescendo after crescendo. It’s even more magical when finally, after years of dreaming, she finally gets to feel Jane’s skin beneath her own fingers.

By the time they collapse, more sweat than flesh, it’s well into those hours of the night when life stands still, when the only sound is your own voice echoing in the silver-lit silence. Jane falls asleep almost instantly. She’s always had a knack for falling asleep in no time, but tonight Maura doesn’t mind. At some point, Jane’s hand finds hers even in her slumber and holds on tight.

Maura, though, stays awake. Lately, these silent hours have been her favorite, enveloped in a thick blanket of darkness and the vast expanse of stars twinkling their hellos through the window. Most nights, they’re her only company. Tonight, Jane’s light snoring interrupts the silence, reminds Maura that everything is different now. Tonight pushed them toward a step they’ve been too cautious to take yet.

But, Maura decides, the stars are even more beautiful when they’re illuminating the freckles on Jane’s naked back, the silence even more comforting when punctuated with those little snores. Tomorrow they’ll start moving Jane’s things out of the guest room. It’s time they made a proper bed, the two of them, turned Maura’s too-big house into the home she always dreamed it would be.

Maura feels her eyes start to grow heavy as her mind rests on a theory. She’s got no evidence to support it; it’s purely speculation, purely “gut instinct” as Jane would call it. But, if Jane’s taught Maura anything over the years, it’s that instinct is sometimes infinitely more powerful than facts. Maura’s got a gut feeling now that she’ll never spend another night in this bed alone.

She can’t wait to be proven right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends!!! just wanted to say thanks again, thank you a million times for all the love you've poured into this story of mine. i'm endlessly thankful for every single one of you who's left kudos and commented on this and all of my fics.
> 
> this is the last rizzles fic i'm gonna write, at least for a while. i've told all the stories i need to tell about these two ladies, and i'm ready to put them away for a little bit while i focus on other projects - i've got original fiction i've been itching to write, and some SIX (the musical) fic ideas bouncing around in my noggin if any of you are fans of that!! so, as i leave you this final chapter to the absolute most personal project i've ever taken on, i'm asking you to take good care of it because there are pieces of my heart littered all over this fic. i love you all so much. i know this isn't the end of my journey with rizzles, but it's the end for now. i hope i'll see you all again when i come back. all love ❤️


End file.
